


How hard can it be to wait for someone to kill you?

by everythingremainsconnected



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Fake Marriage, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Undercover as a Couple, fake relationships for everyone!, graphic violence (typical of the show), some definitely creepy universe shenanigans, suburban hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingremainsconnected/pseuds/everythingremainsconnected
Summary: When Amanda and Martin agree to be bait for an elaborate undercover suburban trap, they didn't bargain on the universe making it super weird and a bit deadly. Pretending to be married is likely to be the least of their problems once the threat to their lives gets serious.Meanwhile, Dirk and Todd are attempting their own undercover pretend relationship (for reasons Todd still isn't entirely sure of) and of course, everything is connected...





	1. Chapter 1

_Three months ago_

“Jesus Dirk, come _on-_ ” 

“It’s life or death!” 

“It’s hot chocolate!” 

Dirk stared, mortally wounded. “Exactly!” 

Todd rolled his eyes hugely, forever the put-upon assis-friend, and pushed Dirk toward the counter. “Can you at least be quick about it? We’re already late to meet that client we’ve been trying to pin down.” 

“What’s another half hour at this point?” Dirk put his nose in the air and headed to the barista without a backward glance, or apparently a forward one. He collided with another customer and sent her drink flying. 

“God _damnit!_ ” The woman shouted. Coffee had sprayed everywhere including over her white business shirt. 

“Shit,” Todd hissed, rushing over to her. “I’m really sorry, he’s so clumsy,” he took a moment to glare daggers at Dirk, “call this number and we’ll pay for your dry cleaning.” Todd handed over a business card quickly. He always had a dozen or more in his pocket these days, mostly for situations just like this. 

“I’m _so_ sorry, here, let me help,” Dirk grabbed a wad of napkins and kind of dropped them in the woman’s hands. She stared, disbelieving. 

Todd opened his mouth to apologise some more before he saw Farah pull up in the jeep outside. “Call the number. Come on Dirk, Farah’s here.” Without waiting for an answer Todd grabbed Dirk by the elbow and dragged him from the café. 

_Now - Saturday_

Barely half a day in and Martin already missed the van. The way it rumbled and growled, the clanking of the chains, the constant thrumming music and the chatter of the Rowdies; those were the sounds of home. The new car even smelled wrong, like clean and fresh air. Martin smoked like a chimney in an effort to make the car feel more like his. The suit shirt, thin tie and well-tailored pants without a single hole in them felt just as wrong as the car. He’d refused to give up his boots. 

The quaint family suburb was a maze of mediocrity. Martin drove by cookie-cutter homes with beautifully landscaped lawns and tried not to snarl. He pulled into the driveway of the house he was pretending to live in and resisted the urge to flick his cigarette butt and howl. Barely. 

The front door opened and Amanda came out to meet him on the porch, wearing a cute summery dress. “Hey honey,” she greeted, reaching up to hug him easily. “You should see what I’ve done with the kitchen! I think it’s really coming together.” 

Martin smiled genuinely as he followed her inside. “Honey?” He asked quietly once the front door was closed. He immediately took off his tie and undid the top few buttons of his shirt. 

“I’m trying to sell this,” Amanda replied, pretending to be stern. “How was the office?” 

Martin stared at her. “I sat at the precinct all day and didn’t get to break a single thing.” 

Months of travelling with the Rowdy Three had given Amanda excellent insight into each of the boys and she could see that Martin was on edge. “Lucky for you, I have a plan.” She smiled and dragged him to the living room by the hand. 

The whole house was furnished so lifelessly that it was depressing and the living room was certainly no exception. Beige carpets and cream walls gave the impression of sitting in a bland flan. A large black leather couch was in the middle of the room and was the only standout amongst the otherwise boring décor. 

“Here,” Amanda pushed Martin into the couch and turned on the TV. Opening the cabinet beneath the huge screen she revealed a brand new Xbox. She threw a controller at him. 

Martin caught it easily. “What’s this?” 

“An Xbox.” Amanda was excited and picked up another controller. She started the console and opened a game. “I had Estevez send it over as a housewarming gift. It’s going to help keep us both sane. I’ll try to not spend all day getting high and killing shit but I can’t make any promises.” 

“Killing shit?” 

“Say hello to Call of Duty,” Amanda sat close by Martin on the couch to show him how to use the controller. The button and toggle functions seemed unnecessarily complicated but he still picked it up easily. “This is a game where you hunt people and kill shit and blow shit up. It’s as close as we can get to wholesale destruction while we’re here.” 

“Great.” 

Amanda shoved his shoulder with one hand as she finished setting up their campaign. “Just give it a chance.” 

“Who’s idea was it to pretend at this shit?” Martin growled. 

“It was a group decision to avoid jail. You and I are the most stable, not that the competition is too fierce,” Amanda said fondly, “so we drew the very short straws. Sound familiar?” 

Martin sighed heavily with just a hint of growl. 

“I’m going to kick your ass.” Amanda settled in, tucked her knees up underneath her, and proceeded to kick his ass. 

The sound of rapid gunfire filled the living room and Amanda laughed every time she blew Martin up, which was a lot. Martin eventually got the hang of the game and it turned into a slightly less one-sided ass kicking. 

“Oh my god I’m starving,” Amanda eventually threw down the controller and went to the kitchen. Martin followed, surprisingly feeling a little better. 

“It looks great in here, honey,” Martin smiled, finally light enough to remember how to have a little fun at Amanda’s expense. 

The kitchen was full of boxes and the benches were covered in junk. 

“Why thank you, it took me _all day_.” Amanda retorted. “I hope you feel like pizza.” She passed him the takeout menu and got beers out of the fridge. “Things you should know about my new domestic goddess façade: it is absolutely a façade and I hate cooking.” She opened both bottles easily and sat at the island bench. 

Martin took a beer with a smile. “Thanks drummer girl.” 

“Hurry up,” Amanda ignored the nickname with a mildly embarrassed smile. “I’m dying here.” 

“Do people in this suburb even know what takeout is?” 

“Anyone who just moved house does.” Amanda refuted. She called through their order. 

“Have you met any of the neighbours yet?” 

“I said hello to exactly three people while spending a weird amount of time watering the garden. God I hate the suburbs.” 

Martin leaned back against the kitchen island. “At least in jail I could fight people.” 

“But then I’d be alone.” 

“We promised you that’d never happen.” Martin looked over the top of his glasses. 

“And that’s why we’re here. Estevez said it’d only be for a little while. Like, a few days. Maybe a week or two. How hard is it to be bait in a comfortable, boring house with as much takeout as we can eat?” Amanda met Martin’s eyes and her optimism died. “Ok this sucks.” 

Martin smiled a little. “Beer helps.” 

“Maybe the ‘spying on the neighbours’ bit will be fun?” Amanda tried. “We get binoculars and everything.” 

“Sitting around patiently ain’t really my thing.” 

“Mine either but we have to try. Please?” Amanda looked down. “I don’t want to be alone again.” 

Martin reached out for her, resting a hand on her shoulder. He and the boys had made a promise, and as much as it itched to stay still for so long, he’d do whatever it took to keep that promise. 

The doorbell rang. 

They both looked toward the front door. Martin set his beer down and inhaled deeply to try and get a sense of what was waiting for them. 

“It’s too soon to be pizza,” Amanda whispered, following Martin’s lead and putting down her drink. 

“I know.” Martin stalked toward the front door. He pulled a baseball bat from an open box in the hallway. Amanda found a hammer and gripped it tightly, a pace behind him. 

Creeping up to the spy hole, Martin glanced through it. He lowered the bat and Amanda followed his cue as he opened the door. 

“Hi!” A smiling middle-aged woman stood on their porch holding a huge basket full of stuff. 

“Hello,” Amanda said warmly. She moved closer to Martin, ostensibly to wrap her arm around his waist but really to stick the hammer in his belt loop. To his credit, he barely flinched. 

Martin tried to smile but it didn’t come out quite right. He kept his baseball bat behind Amanda. 

“I’m Brooke from number thirty-two. I saw the moving van this morning and thought I’d come by, say hello and welcome to the neighbourhood!” She held out the basket. 

Amanda took it awkwardly, ensuring she kept herself between Brooke from number thirty-two and Martin’s baseball bat. “Thanks so much, this looks amazing. That’s so thoughtful!” Amanda smiled. “I’m Mandy, and this is my husband Mark.” 

“It is so great to meet you,” Brooke looked from one to the other. Mark was clearly older than Mandy and she wondered by how much. “So what brings you to this beautiful area?” 

“Mark was offered a transfer with work and we thought, why not? It’s so lovely here.” Amanda nodded. 

“What do you for work, Mark?” 

“I’m a criminal lawyer.” Martin failed at smiling again. 

“That must be so interesting,” Brooke said politely, “and what about you, Mandy?” 

“I was an environmental lawyer but we thought, coming here, moving into this big house,” Amanda said suggestively, “it might be time to think about starting a family.” 

Brooke smiled knowingly. “How exciting for you! This is a great place for kids, my two boys go to Springvale Elementary and it is a _great_ school. Let me know when you want me to introduce you to the principal there, the wait list can be quite extensive – if you don’t know the right people.” Brooke winked. She noticed the boxes in the hallway and looked back to the couple. “I won’t keep you from your unpacking, I know how stressful moving can be. Oh, before I go, my husband Gary and I are having a barbeque next Saturday, just a few friends of from work and the neighbourhood. Won’t you join us?” 

Amanda couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. “Uh, of course! That would be great!” 

“Fantastic!” Brooke grinned. “We’ll see you at five on Saturday.” 

Amanda waved as Brooke turned and left. 

Martin closed the door with a long sigh. “How the hell am I supposed to ‘blend in’ for a whole night?” He looked at Amanda, still cradling the huge welcome basket. He pulled the hammer from the back of his pants with a small smile. “Startin’ a family?” 

“Didn’t you see the way she was looking at us?” Amanda asked as she took the basket into the kitchen. “She clearly thinks I’m some kind of trophy wife for some grungy lawyer. Give them what they expect and don’t make them work too hard for it.” Setting the basket down on the island bench Amanda picked up her beer and looked through the contents. 

“We shouldn’t eat any of that,” Martin suggested. 

“Bummer. There’s some good shit in here.” Amanda picked up a bottle of champagne and raised her eyebrows. 

“Estevez said to be careful of poisoning.” 

Amanda pouted. “You ruin all the fun.” 

“We ain’t exactly short on things to drink.” 

“Ok, the fridge is mostly beer, but still.” 

Martin sat beside Amanda at the kitchen island. “I’ll take this with me to the precinct tomorrow. Estevez will probably want to see it.” 

“Fine!” Amanda sighed dramatically and looked to the kitchen clock. “How long does it take to deliver a pizza?” 

“You really hate cooking?” 

“It’s too risky. All the sensory stimulation sets off the disease and it just isn’t worth it.” Amanda’s face clouded over. 

Martin scented her changing mood and didn’t like it one bit. “Wanna blow up some shit?” 

“More than anything. COD will have to do.” 

“COD?” 

Amanda laughed. “You have so much to learn.” 

The evening passed uneventfully with greasy pizza and video games. The Call of Duty competition was close and went for hours but Amanda emerged the victor. She wasn’t especially gracious about it; teasing Martin was almost as fun as kicking his ass and he took it well. They set the complex home security system before heading upstairs to the master bedroom. 

“This shit just won’t quit,” Amanda said of the master suite. More beige walls and carpet awaited them; even the bedspread on the massive bed was uninspiring cream brocade. She locked the bedroom door and Martin drew the drapes shut. 

In the huge walk-through robe was an impressive security set up monitoring all doors and windows of the house, as well as temperature and air quality. External cameras were set over various parts of the yard and garage. 

“I call shotgun on the shower,” Amanda glanced at the monitoring screens as she walked through the robe to the ridiculous bathroom. “Stay close?” 

“Always.” Martin sat at the security set up, near enough to the bathroom in case of a pararibulitis episode. 

Amanda smiled quickly before closing the door. She used every single one of the nice smelling bath accessories she’d specified that Estevez provide for them; it was like having her own Lush store. The pristine bathroom was a novelty and Amanda intended to use it as often as possible. The fluffy towels just about blew her mind and she snuggled into one the size of a blanket with a happy sigh. 

“Are you drownin' in there?” Martin asked after some time. 

“We need to get these towels!” Amanda finally left the bathroom wrapped in one of the heavenly sheets. “It feels like a _cloud_.” She went to her portion of the wardrobe to find pyjamas. Normally she slept in her clothes or maybe sweats if she could be bothered, but felt the situation called for proper bedclothes. “You have to shower before getting into that bed,” Amanda instructed, “I do not want to change the sheets every other day coz you fell into it still dressed.” 

“I’ll take the sofa,” Martin shrugged. Of course the walk-through robe was big enough for its own full-sized sofa. 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid.” She finally found the pyjamas she’d been looking for: soft pink cotton shorts and tank top. “We’ve been camping and travelling for months. If your snoring was going to bother me it would have bothered me before now.” She turned back to the bathroom to get dressed. Emerging in her pink matching pjs, Amanda sighed happily. “Sometimes I miss real bathrooms. Anything on the monitors?” She came to stand beside him, propping her hip on the side of his chair. 

Martin tried not to stare. In all the months they’d been on the road together he’d never seen her look so soft. He inhaled deeply as if trying to sense impending danger. 

“What is it?” Amanda asked immediately. 

“You smell different.” 

“I think you mean _amazing_. Don’t worry, I left enough for you.” Amanda went into the bedroom proper and dumped the excessive amount of pillows onto the floor before climbing into the bed. She groaned. “This bed is phenomenal.” 

Martin got to his feet and leaned against the doorframe, watching Amanda over the top of his glasses. She snuggled down into the blankets and plush pillows like a bunny in a burrow. He smiled and made his way to the bathroom. 

“Hey,” Amanda called out, “I got you something. Check the vanity.” 

Martin showered and used the admittedly very comfortable towels. He resolved to steal them when this undercover operation was over. Drying himself off he checked the small bundle of fabric Amanda had left for him on the edge of the vanity. 

“You’re kiddin’.” Martin stood in the doorway of the walk-through robe-come surveillance centre in black cotton shorts that finished well above the knee. He’d already pushed them as low down his hips as was physically possible and a serious amount of thigh remained visible. 

“As if they’re not your colour.” 

“Colour ain’t the problem.” 

“Well, they’re a gift that I made Estevez get you, so be polite and just pretend like you like them.” 

Martin snarled. 

Amanda just laughed. “Sorry, it’s kind of hard to take you seriously right now.” She’d seen him shirtless before but never just in boxers. As far as she knew he didn’t even wear boxers. It was a struggle to keep the smile off her face. “Can you turn out the light?” 

Martin growled some more but did as she asked. He stalked to the bed and climbed in, his face betraying his distaste for the opulent bedding. He sighed. “I miss fresh air.” 

“Me too.” Amanda stared up at the ceiling. The light from the surveillance centre lit the room in strange blue tones. “I miss the boys.” 

“Me too.” 

“It’s too quiet.” Amanda sighed. “This sucks.” 

“Beats jail.” 

Amanda laughed a little. “For now.” She rolled away and pushed the covers down to get comfortable. “Goodnight.” 

Leaving his glasses on the nightstand, Martin looked at Amanda. Her shoulders were curled over and the rise of her hip was exposed by the tank top riding up. Dark hair fanned over the pillow and the new smell of her from all the bath products wafted across the distance between them. With a small sigh Martin rolled away from her and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sunday_

The faint but concerning alarm from the security system woke them at dawn. Martin rolled out of bed and picked up a crowbar in one smooth motion while Amanda ran to the monitors. She scanned them frantically, looking for the problem. 

“Martin, it’s fine. It’s just a bird.” Amanda watched said bird irritate the sensors and sighed. She silenced the alarm and heard the bedroom door unlock. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m gonna kill it.” Martin called over his shoulder. 

“Bring back coffee!” Amanda shouted. She got back into bed with a grumble. 

Martin was gone long enough that Amanda wondered how long it could possibly take to kill a single bird. 

Eventually she heard him approach and spoke without opening her eyes. “I hope you sent it straight to hell.” 

There was the sound of something being placed on her nightstand. Amanda opened an eye to find a mug of coffee and crawled toward it with a happy sigh. 

“I hope you like black coffee. There’s no milk.” Martin growled. He glanced at the monitors before climbing back into bed with his own mug. “I hate the suburbs.” 

“At least the coffee’s good,” Amanda pointed out. Her hair was a delightful tangle and her light top pulled across her chest as she stretched. Martin looked away. “How do you want to play today? Should we go to some _farmer’s markets?_ ” 

Martin laughed darkly. “Only if I can take a weapon.” 

“Unlikely.” Amanda refuted. She settled back into her pillows and held the coffee tight. “We should at least move the boxes out of the hall. Later. I’m not moving anything til there’s a bit more sun.” She yawned. 

“What else do suburban people do?” Martin leaned against the headboard. It was a strange and foreign world here in the burbs and the only tether holding his sanity was the promise he’d made to Amanda. 

“Eat brunch,” Amanda said thoughtfully, “garden. Cook shit. I dunno.” She laughed. “A normal middle-class life was never on the cards for me. I didn’t waste a lot of time thinking about it.” 

“You were livin’ in the suburbs when we met.” 

“Oh yeah, when you threw a brick through my living room window.” 

“You threw it first.” Martin countered. 

Amanda hmphed with a smile. “I was afraid to go outside, remember? I didn’t make neighbourhood friends. Or any friends at all.” Her phone rang and she looked at the screen before answering. “Hey Estevez. You’re on speaker.” Amanda set the phone to speaker and put it on the bed beside her. 

“You guys all good? We saw the alarm go off.” 

“Some bird took an interest in one of the cameras. We’re fine.” Amanda replied. 

“Anything to report?” Estevez continued. 

“We got a gift basket! Martin’s going to bring it to you this morning. If the champagne comes back clear can we have it? It’s a nice bottle.” 

“You’re going to pretend to work on a Sunday?” 

“Lawyers always work too much,” Amanda explained, “that’s why we went with that cover story, remember?” 

Martin sighed. 

“Oh, and there’s going to be a neighbourhood barbeque next Saturday,” Amanda laughed, “we’re going to go make friends. Aren’t we, _Mark?_ ” 

Martin growled. 

“Try not to make a scene,” Estevez pleaded, “we can’t blow this op.” 

“We got it. Bye!” Amanda ended the call. “Ugh he’s so paranoid. Almost as bad as Farah.” Martin was oddly quiet, even for him. She turned to meet his eyes and found that he wouldn’t look at her. “Hey, what is it?” 

“When I was a kid, before,” Martin’s jaw clenched before he continued, “I grew up somewhere like this. First I left, then I was taken, and for a while I couldn’t think of anythin’ but goin’ home. By the time we escaped I knew I could never go home again. Not after what they did to me.” He finished his coffee. “I know I don’t fit here but I didn’t think it’d be this hard.” 

“Thank you for doing this.” Amanda said quietly. 

“I don’t break my promises, drummer girl.” 

Amanda smiled. “Hopefully someone will try and kill us over the next few days and we can get the hell out of here. Hey, I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Maybe we could go there next?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

“Seriously?” Amanda grinned and leapt out of bed. The few personal possessions they’d been allowed to bring into the house were kept in a grubby duffel bag. She grabbed it from the wardrobe and threw it on the bed, digging out a massive much-folded map and spreading it out across the covers. “That’ll take a few days, right?” Amanda traced the spidery roads from Seattle to Arizona with the tip of her finger. 

“Depends how much sleep you want.” Martin shrugged. 

“More today would have been nice.” 

Martin smiled. Amanda watched him as he moved to get a closer look at the map and realised she’d never seen his bare torso up close before. His pale flesh was crisscrossed with scars, a patchwork of faint lines that only appeared in a certain light. Amanda tried to subtly look down his shoulders and back and found the marks continued. 

“If you wanted to see me without a shirt, all you had to do was ask. Maybe then I would’ve been allowed to keep my pants.” Martin said in a low voice. 

Amanda felt her face get warm. “Isn’t it nice to not sleep in jeans?” 

“Maybe a little,” Martin admitted. 

“You’re welcome.” 

*

Later in the morning Amanda followed Martin out onto the porch. He was once again dressed in his lawyer costume and carried a moving box secretly full of gift hamper items. 

“Are you _sure_ it can’t wait til Monday?” Amanda pouted. She wore a dressing gown over her pyjamas. 

“I’m sure. I won’t be long.” Martin hesitated for just a second and then bent to kiss Amanda’s cheek. “Don’t try and lift anythin’ up those stairs without me.” He loaded up the car and left. 

Amanda stared after him thoughtfully. They’d never actually discussed the extent of physical affection to display in their sham marriage but she found that she was smiling at the memory of his lips and beard against her face. Amanda went back inside to play house, which lasted all of half an hour before she sat down to watch cable. 

The car pulled into the drive two hours later. Amanda was sitting on the porch with a pitcher of iced tea and a magazine, though she couldn’t stay focused on the writing before her. She kept staring out across the street to the quiet house across from her. 

“How many of those do you have?” Martin asked as he approached, looking the dress up and down. He carried the moving box he’d left with earlier and set it by her chair. 

“Too damn many. Tea?” Amanda poured him a glass. “Did you get everything done?” 

Martin loosened his tie and sat beside her on the bench seat. “Yeah. Everythin’ was fine.” He unbuttoned his collar and a couple extra buttons besides. 

Amanda watched as he sat back with a glass of iced tea and admired his pleasantly exposed throat. She smiled at seeing his boots peeking out from underneath his perfectly cut trousers. 

“Anyone try and kill you?” 

Amanda sighed. “Not yet.” 

“Damn.” 

“At this rate we’ll still have to go to the barbeque next week.” 

Martin growled. “I picked somethin’ up on my way over.” He opened the moving box and pulled out a shopping bag to give to Amanda. 

“You shouldn’t have.” Amanda smiled a little mockingly. She pulled out two boxes of chocolates. 

“Estevez said people take things to barbeques.” Martin shrugged. 

“We probably didn’t need two.” 

“One’s for you.” 

Amanda looked at him sharply. “Thanks.” Aware that they were in a semi-public space, she rested her hand on his arm, committing to the appearance of a happy marriage. 

Martin merely smiled. 

“Afternoon, neighbours!” Came a cheery call across the fence. 

“Jesus Christ I _really_ didn’t think anyone sounded like that.” Amanda hissed as she turned to see Brooke waving from next door. “Hi!” She returned with a smile. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could borrow your husband for just a minute? Gary needs a hand with something and, well,” Brooke laughed, “I just don’t have the muscle!” 

“How about it, honey?” Amanda asked, trying to sound encouraging. She watched Martin try and smile. 

“Sure.” Martin almost kept the growl from his voice. He rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows and went around the fence to follow Brooke, glancing back at Amanda just once. 

Martin found Gary trying to unload a brand new cooktop from an SUV. The man’s cologne itched at Martin’s nose and he resisted the urge to sneeze. 

“Mark, is it?” Gary smiled and held out a hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you. Thanks for helping out.” 

“No problem.” Martin shook his hand and easily helped the neighbour move the cooktop into the yard. Truthfully he could have done it himself but he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be abnormally strong. 

“Brooke says you’re a lawyer?” 

Martin nodded. “Criminal law with a firm in the city.” 

“You moved here for work, is that right?” 

“Yeah. My wife and I thought it was the right time to settle down.” Martin recited the lie and found it came easily. 

“She seems real sweet,” Brooke said with a smile. “Can I get you fellas a drink?” 

Martin opened his mouth to reply and felt a spike of wrongness drive through his head like a nail. A second later the sound of smashing glass came from his porch. He ran. 

Martin jumped the fence easily and saw Amanda sitting on the bench, hyperventilating and hugging herself. The tea pitcher was in shards at her feet. Martin leapt up the stairs in one stride and crouched before Amanda, cupping her face in his hands. She couldn’t speak. Gently he took her hands in his and drew out the vortex of pain and panic that signified a pararibulitis attack. It was the work of seconds to relieve Amanda of her agony. She slumped forward and Martin caught her before helping her back onto the seat properly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Amanda whispered, her head resting against his shoulder. 

“It’s ok,” Martin said, his voice low, “I got you.” He put his arms around her. 

Gary and Brooke came bustling up the porch stairs, the picture of neighbourly concern. “Oh dear, is everything alright?” Brooke asked, taking in the broken glass and the visibly shaken Mandy. 

“I’m so sorry,” Amanda pulled away with a wobbly smile. “We get weird phone calls sometimes, because of Mark’s work,” she glanced at him, “and I just get so upset.” She was glad they’d come up with the cover story just in case. 

“That’s awful!” Brooke gasped. “Is there anything we can do?” Gary nodded sympathetically. 

“No, thank you,” Amanda replied graciously. “I just need a minute. If you’ll excuse us?” 

“Of course. If there’s anything we can do, you know where to find us.” Brooke smiled before she left with her husband. 

“Let’s get you inside.” Martin helped Amanda to her feet and into the living room. He brought her a beer and sat by her on the couch, looking at Amanda closely. Before he’d eaten her pain, something had been _different_. “You see anythin’?” 

Amanda sipped the beer and nodded. She unlaced her sandals as she spoke. “Yeah. Fries in a cooking basket? Uh,” she paused. It was like trying to remember a dream. “Birds, lots of them. I don’t know what kind. Maybe lots of different ones?” Amanda looked at Martin with a frustrated sigh. “Let’s try an experiment.” 

Martin growled. 

“Next time, let the attack go for longer.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

Amanda shrugged. “I want to find out if I can see more the longer it goes on before you get rid of it.” 

“No way.” 

“What if it’s something important, like last time? That’s the only time I’ve seen anything properly and it was a super long attack. What if the next attack goes for longer and I can see more?” 

Martin shook his head. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ you live through that longer’n it takes me to get to you.” 

“You don’t have to _let_ me do anything! I’m telling you, we’re doing this. _I’m_ doing this.” 

“Like hell!” 

“What choice is there? If I’m going to see anything useful it _has_ to be a longer vision. I have a feeling about this. Can you just like, trust me to know what I’m doing here?” 

“Trust you? You don’t know the first thing about this!” 

“Do you? Was there someone else like me in – in that place?” Amanda sat forward eagerly. “You never talk about it. None of you ever talk about it.” 

Martin looked away. “No. No one they made us feed on ever tasted like you.” 

“Then how are you so sure I’m wrong? You just get to ‘know’ things, Dirk gets his hunches, why can’t I know things too? Just coz I wasn’t rounded up by some secret government bullshit doesn’t mean I’m not – something!” Amanda stared at Martin, willing him to listen to her. “I want to find out. I _need_ to find out if I’m right.” 

“I ain’t experimentin’ on you like some kind of rat in a cage!” Martin fumed. He stormed out of the living room and went to the basement. 

Amanda let him go. She could feel the rage radiating off him from rooms away. Something about the conversation had struck a nerve but trying to talk to Martin in that mood wasn’t going to work. Finishing her beer, Amanda went to the kitchen to get a couple more and headed for the basement door. 

There was no point in trying to sneak up on him. Part of whatever made Martin of interest to a top-secret CIA operation meant that he could scent people like a bloodhound. He always knew where she was, and where the boys were, and when something bad was going to happen. It was that sense that Estevez had been banking on when he contacted them about the undercover plan; the perpetually suspicious cop had been unwilling to use regular people for the trap. The fact that Estevez had considerable leverage over them certainly helped his arguments. 

Amanda went down the basement stairs, trying to figure out if Martin’s anger was still palpable. “Are you thirsty? I got beers.” 

There was no answer. 

Cautiously looking around Amanda saw Martin pacing the far end of the room, puffing on his cigarette like a smokestack. “Hey, Martin?” 

With a snarl Martin whipped around to face her. Glaring over the top of his glasses, Amanda could see that was something missing behind his vivid eyes. “I ain’t turnin’ you into some kind of freak show. My Rowdies ain’t goin’ in no cages.” 

“There’s no cages, Martin.” Amanda reminded him. “There won’t be any more cages. Ever. I promise.” 

Martin resumed his pacing. 

“Remember the first night we camped out in the woods?” Amanda tried. “Remember how cold it was, and I had that attack and I couldn’t get warm again? And Vogel decided to be a human blanket but he snores worse than a stuck pig and I couldn’t sleep?” 

As Amanda spoke, Martin’s pacing slowed. 

“You felt so bad that I was so cold, and I said it didn’t matter, coz I was free. We were all free, and together, and nothing was ever going to change that. Remember?” 

Finally Martin stood still. He kept smoking and wouldn’t look at her. 

“Nothing is ever going to change that.” Amanda repeated. “You hear me? Doing this one thing isn’t the same as what happened to you. No more cages.” 

Martin growled softly. “No more cages.” 

“I promise.” Amanda sat on the bottom step and sipped her beer. “I’m serious about this Martin. You’ve gotta let the next attack go longer.” 

“I don’t like this.” 

“I know.” Amanda held out the second beer. He approached her and took it with a sigh. “I’m not going to like it either, but I have to try. What if it’s important?” 

“What if it kills you?” 

“No one ever died of a hallucination.” 

Martin met her eyes, almost seeming like himself again. “The ones where you’re drownin’ come pretty damn close.” If he never saw her struggling to breathe ever again it would be too soon. 

“Promise me that you’ll let me try this.” 

“I can’t,” Martin looked away, “I can’t watch you burn. Or drown. Or any of it. I can’t.” 

Amanda stood up to get in Martin’s face. Her fingers gripped his bearded chin to force him to meet her eyes. “Yes you can. You have to. You know I’m right.” 

Growling again Martin slumped his shoulders. He knew it in his bones, could feel it in the threads of the universe – he’d do anything Amanda wanted. Martin just never imagined she’d ask him to watch her suffer. 

“Thank you.” Amanda said, stepping back and letting him go. 

“I didn’t say yes.” 

Amanda smiled knowingly. “You’re going to.” 

“You’re a smug little thing ain’t ya.” Martin stubbed out his cigarette on the bare concrete floor. 

“Only when I’m right, so, yes.” Amanda grinned before covering her mouth to yawn. “My head is killing me.” 

Martin blinked. Of course Amanda would be tired after an attack, especially after the longest one she’d had in months. He remembered the attack at the grocery store when they first fed on her energy. Amanda had been so stunned, and in such bad shape from the hallucination, that she’d passed out cold in the parking lot. Martin went into protector mode but found the defaults were off; there was no danger to escape from, no urgent need to get her somewhere safe or secure or dry. 

Amanda watched Martin’s impassive face and could read all the little ticks and tells of a man struggling to deal. She smiled up at him. “I just need a nap. Not rescuing. Ok?” 

“Fine.” 

Rolling her eyes Amanda headed back up the basement stairs. “You want me to set up the Xbox for you before I pass out?” 

“Fine.” 

“We’re at a one-word-vocabulary I see.” Amanda looked over her shoulder pointedly. She set up the Xbox for a single player campaign and yawned the whole time. Eventually she handed over the controller. 

Martin merely grunted. 

“You’re welcome.” Amanda turned to head for the stairs. 

“We shouldn’t be so far apart.” 

Amanda stared at Martin tiredly for a minute before realising he had a point. “Fine,” she said with a smile, “you can listen to me snoring during your campaign.” Amanda propped her head on one arm of the couch and stretched out, her feet pressing against Martin’s thigh. She was asleep in seconds. 

Looking down at Amanda, Martin sighed. “You’re gonna be the death of me, drummer girl.” 

Martin swore that Amanda smiled in her sleep. 

*

Waking up, Amanda stretched out with a squeak. When her feet didn’t connect with Martin’s legs she sat up. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the beige nightmare of a living room but Amanda didn’t panic; she felt Martin was somewhere close by. After a moment she could smell cooking food. With a yawn and a confused frown Amanda went into the kitchen. 

“I hope you’re hungry,” Martin said without looking up. He was at the stove with a loaded, sizzling frying pan. The kitchen counters were still a disaster but Amanda didn’t recognise the arrangement of clutter. 

“You can cook?” 

Martin shrugged. “I remember some things from before.” 

“What kind of things?” Amanda approached carefully. 

“Not much.” 

Amanda smiled a little wearily. “Can I help with anything?” 

“Nah. Just sit tight. Won’t be long.” 

“What is it?” 

“Everythin’ I could find, fried, with some flavour in it.” Martin almost smiled. The hint of expression made Amanda sigh in relief. “What?” 

“I’m glad you’ve got your head of your ass.” 

Martin hmphed. He turned off the stove and dished up, sitting at the kitchen island. 

Amanda sat beside him and waited for the food to cool down. “How old were you? When you talk about ‘before’. When’s ‘before’?” 

Staring into his bowl, Martin paused. “I don’t know. I lost track of time for a while and then I decided I didn’t want to remember. I know I started middle school, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t finish.” He sighed. “We got out almost seventeen years ago. _That_ I remember.” 

Amanda was desperate to ask more but couldn’t bring herself to do it. As it was Martin looked a million miles away and Amanda was worried he wouldn’t come back. 

It was all in vain; Martin could sense her curiosity. “I remember runnin’ away from home.” 

“Why’d you run away?” 

Martin took a deep breath. “The first time I fed on my folks I didn’t know what was happenin’. I couldn’t control it. I thought I’d killed ‘em.” 

Amanda rested her hand on Martin’s bare forearm, startling him slightly and making him look at her. They didn’t much go for the gentle, human kind of touch that Amanda sometimes found herself craving. The quiet moment of her hand on Martin’s arm was the longest peaceful moment they’d shared. Once both Amanda and Martin had adjusted to the contact, she nodded, just once. There was nothing to say; Amanda loved that they didn’t fill silence for the sake of it. After a moment she smiled, hoping Martin could tell exactly how much she loved their little found family, and squeezed his arm. 

“Eat before it goes cold.” Martin said gruffly. 

Poking her tongue out Amanda took a bite. “Wow, this is good.” She mumbled with her mouth full. 

“You don’t gotta sound so surprised.” 

“Let’s be real, it’s been what, like twenty-something years since you cooked something? I’m surprised it’s edible let alone delicious.” 

Martin almost smiled into his meal. 

Once they were done Amanda put the dishes into the dishwasher. “That’s about as much as I can clean up.” She admitted, not quite looking at Martin. 

“I got it.” Martin dumped a bunch of stuff in the sink. “I definitely can’t remember the last time I washed up.” 

Amanda shrugged. “Me neither. One of the hardest things about when I got sick was that I couldn’t do anything for myself. I couldn’t even wash a dish without being scared of an attack.” 

“Good thing we don’t cook much.” 

With a small nod Amanda looked away. She hated the domesticity; it reminded her of just how helpless she’d felt in her former life. Feeling trapped between waiting for someone to help her and waiting for an attack was the stuff of nightmares. It was _years_ of waiting, waiting, waiting. Amanda hated it. Being back in suburban hell made her feel small and useless all over again, like nothing had ever changed, and that she’d be trapped in some Groundhog Day nightmare forever. 

Martin felt Amanda closing herself off as she got lost in unpleasant memories. That wouldn’t do. His fingers itched for their baseball bats and he ground his teeth in frustration. What was the suburban version… “Beers and video games?” 

“Oh hell yeah. I’m gonna kick your ass.” Amanda grinned, got two beers and headed for the living room. 

They settled in with Call of Duty, the competition being more evenly split than the first tournament. It didn’t take long for Amanda’s mood to brighten with the scent of delight and violent energy that Martin hungered for. He started losing rounds easily once that mildly beguiling mood of Amanda’s filled the room. After his fifteenth loss in a row Amanda called it a night and led the way up to the bedroom. 

“Somehow I’d forgotten how bleak this is.” Amanda looked at the unmade bed with a sigh. “At least the plumbing is a bonus. I’m taking a shower.” 

Martin followed her to the en suite and waited outside. The overpowering scents of Amanda’s bottle collection wafted out through the door and mingled delightfully with the slightly-psychic smell of happiness. Martin breathed in with a smile. 

Eventually Amanda opened the door and the perfumed air swamped the wardrobe entirely. “I wish the boys were here. Gripps would kill all of you for this stuff.” She held a bottle aloft. “Should we take some back for him?” 

“Whatever you say, drummer girl.” 

“As if you’re not loving how this smells.” Amanda waved the bottle under his nose and saw the way his nostrils flared. 

“That ain’t the point.” Martin fought to keep from smiling. 

“If you ever figure out what your point is, let me know. Til then, I need sleep.” Amanda left the bottle behind and strolled by him into the bedroom. 

Martin showered quickly and joined her, again in his ridiculous shorts. “What’s the point of these things?” He sneered. He turned out the light and climbed into bed. 

“Comfort? I know you’ve got an _aesthetic_ going on but sometimes it’s just nice to be comfortable.” Amanda yawned. “Right?” 

The mattress was obscenely soft beneath Martin and he honestly couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. “I guess.” 

“Goodnight.” Amanda rolled over to face him and fell asleep quickly. 

*

Hours later, Amanda jolted awake. She stayed perfectly still, her heart thudding in her chest, listening for whatever it was that woke her. It only took a second to realise that Martin’s breathing was irregular, and worryingly so. 

“Martin?” Amanda said softly. She rose up on one elbow to look at him, the blue lights from the security systems colouring him oddly. In that heartbeat nothing seemed real and Amanda swore she felt shadows dance across her skin. Martin didn’t respond and his breathing didn’t get better. If anything, it got worse. Amanda put her hand on his bare shoulder and he woke instantly, lurching up with a gasp. She flinched back. “Take it easy, it’s just me.” 

Panting like he’d just been running, Martin threw off the covers and moved to the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t look at her. 

“Martin, what’s going on?” 

“Nothin’. Go back to sleep.” 

“Not a chance.” Amanda pushed the covers down to slowly move closer. “Are you ok?” 

Martin couldn’t speak. The silence stretched out. Too many images – half-memories and mostly-nightmares – were fighting for space in his head and in the strange place between awake and asleep he couldn’t tell which would win. 

Amanda gave up on language, it not really being a Rowdy strength, and sat right beside Martin on the bed’s edge. She leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder, willing some calm into the room. 

“I can’t tell if the nightmares are memories or not.” Martin said after a while. “Can’t tell if I’m rememberin’ some shit buried deep, or if my brain is makin’ up new ways to make me suffer.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Ain’t your fault.” Martin got out of bed and went to the wardrobe. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one, sitting on the couch and staring out the wardrobe window. 

Amanda let Martin have his moment. She could feel him trying to pull away and could only stand it for so long. Joining him on the couch, Amanda held her hand out for the cigarette. Martin gave it to her without looking at her. 

Eventually Martin glanced at Amanda. “Sorry I woke you.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Do you have trouble sleeping a lot?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“How come I’ve never seen it before?” 

Martin shrugged. “We ain’t always on the same mattress.” 

“There has to _be_ a mattress for that to happen I guess,” Amanda smiled. “What do you normally do when you can’t sleep?” 

Martin shrugged again. “Wait for the sun to come up.” 

“Really? You don’t bother trying to stream something on my laptop? Or, I dunno, try to go back to sleep?” 

“No.” Martin said emphatically. “I used to, but they just come back if I do.” 

“You wanna watch something?” Amanda offered. “We probably shouldn’t put on too many lights. It’ll make the neighbours suspicious.” 

“You should go back to sleep.” 

Amanda finished the cigarette and stubbed out the butt on the window ledge. “Nope. I mean, if you want to be alone, then that’s fine,” she looked at Martin, trying to read him, “but I don’t think you want that. Do you?” 

A hint of a smile ghosted across Martin’s face. “Rowdies ain’t meant to be alone.” 

“So why are you trying to get rid of me?” 

Martin met her eyes at last. “It’s the middle of the damn night and you had an attack yesterday. You’ve gotta be wiped.” 

“Maybe.” Amanda shrugged. “So let’s watch something. There’s a TV in one of those cupboards. It might be nice to watch something on a screen bigger than my laptop.” 

“You’re one stubborn punk.” 

Amanda grinned. “It’s one of my _many_ talents. C’mon.” Going back into the bedroom Amanda opened the cupboard opposite the bed’s end to reveal a massive TV. She picked up the remote and threw herself into the plush bedding. 

“You want a beer?” 

“Thanks.” Amanda scrolled through the TV menu as Martin went downstairs. 

By the time Martin came back and gave Amanda a drink, she’d already picked a movie. “I hope you like The Incredibles.” 

“What’s that?” Martin got back into bed, sitting against the headboard. 

“ _What?_ ” Amanda pretended to be shocked. “It’s cinematic genius. You’ll love it.” Amanda sipped her beer as she watched the opening sequence. She laughed, hard, and Martin smiled every time. 

Amanda lay down again and eventually fell asleep. The sound of her genteel snoring was soothing, and Martin found his eyes closing of their own accord. He remembered enough to turn off the TV before he fell asleep again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Two months ago_

The office was small and pokey and the corner with the sink smelled a bit weird no matter how much cleaning agent they poured down the drain. An opinion on the location depended very much on one’s point of view; it was above a bakery and next to a bail bond agent. Slightly weird sink smell and definite overwhelming bakery smell aside, Todd loved the afternoon light that bathed the office, though he’d deny it if anyone ever asked. 

On an incredibly rare quiet afternoon Todd lay on the office couch, basking in the warm autumn sunlight that kept a smile on his face. Technically they were between cases and that was always a strange place to be. There was concern about how long the next case would take to appear/overrun their lives but mostly Todd tried to relax while he could. 

Just as Todd was entertaining the thought of an afternoon pastry, the phone rang. He opened an eye suspiciously. 

“Thank you for calling Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, cases solved with arguable efficiency, Dirk speaking!” 

Todd closed his eye and smiled in spite of himself. The sound of absolute pride in Dirk’s voice every time he answered the phone was priceless. 

“That sounds tremendously interesting.” Dirk encouraged. 

Todd heard Dirk scrabbling for pens. He refrained, quite maturely, from remarking on the distressingly messy desktop. 

Dirk gasped. “Really? We’ll take the case! What did you say your name was again?” 

Todd’s stomach lurched. _Another case already?_ He sat up with a sigh. 

“We’ll meet you at the café in half an hour.” Dirk hung up the phone and looked at Todd, grinning. “Another case!” 

“I figured. What is it?” 

“A mysterious death in a mysterious house! Janice said she’d tell us more at the café. Come on, Todd.” 

“Which café?” 

“The one I spilled her coffee in a few weeks ago. Where are the car keys?” 

“I’m driving!” Todd quickly grabbed the keys before Dirk could complain. 

*

_Now - Monday_

The soft pillow and springy mattress beneath her felt so wrong that Amanda went from mostly asleep to incredibly awake in half a second. She sat up with a snort, looking around. It felt weird without all the boys in her immediate vicinity but at least Martin was close. He was sound asleep beside her. There was something immediately adorable about a napping predator, not unlike a sleeping cat, but there was no way Martin’s snoring could be mistaken for purring. 

The thought was enough to make Amanda smile anyway. She resisted saying ‘I told you so’ and settled for being silently smug. She rolled over to reach for her phone, the movement disturbing Martin enough that he woke up. 

“Hey,” Martin mumbled. He rubbed his eyes. 

“D’you have any more nightmares?” 

Martin yawned. “Nah.” 

“Awesome.” Amanda stretched before snuggling under the blankets. “Do you know how to make pancakes?” 

“Nope. I think I saw some frozen waffles, is that close enough?” 

Amanda sighed. “I guess. I kinda wish I’d given Estevez a list of shit to get.” 

“Let me get this right,” Martin said slowly, still waking up, “you gave the man a detailed selection of bathroom soap and whatever other shit in there smells like sugar – and you told him to get _pyjamas_ – but you didn’t bother to let him know what you might want to eat?” 

“Well when you put it like that,” Amanda laughed, “it’s been a while since I had a hot shower with soap that smells this amazing.” She made a show of sniffing her arm and smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being as grimy as the rest of you, but there’s just something irresistible about hot showers that smell like cupcakes.” 

Martin laughed. “Food ain’t for bathin’ in.” 

“You’re just jealous coz you don’t smell this good.” 

“Will you be ok on your own for a bit this mornin’?” 

Amanda looked at Martin sharply. “Why?” 

“I can feel the boys gettin’ restless.” Martin said quietly. “They need me. Just for a bit.” 

“I guess.” Amanda shrugged. “I survived yesterday, I’ll probably survive again today.” Checking the time Amanda grimaced. “It’s after nine. How are we gonna cover up the sleep in?” 

“It’s my week off, I make my own hours.” 

Amanda grinned. “Works for me. Can we have waffles before you go?” 

“Yeah.” Martin rolled out of bed, shoved his glasses on his face, and headed for the wardrobe. He emerged in half a lawyer costume, his black slacks sitting over the scuffed boots. Martin pulled on a shirt and had his tie hanging around his neck. “You hungry?” 

“Starving.” Amanda trotted downstairs behind Martin, pulling on a dressing gown. 

Martin made coffee and frozen waffles while Amanda rearranged the kitchen mess. As he cooked Martin buttoned up his shirt and eventually did up his tie. 

“We have a back patio,” Amanda said thoughtfully, “I think we should use it.” 

Martin looked at her over the top of his glasses. 

“We’re playing happy suburban family, remember? Being seen in our garden like normal people is only going to help the cover story.” 

With a long sigh, Martin nodded. He followed Amanda out the kitchen door onto the cute patio, sitting with her at the little wrought iron setting. Tidy landscaping framed the patio but didn’t quite hide them from the neighbours. The whole thing made Martin’s flesh crawl. 

“I wish you could take an actual holiday sometime,” Amanda remarked casually. She bit into her waffle with a smile. 

“One day.” 

Amanda rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Uh-huh. You’re just checking on a few things, right? You won’t be long?” 

“Shouldn’t be.” 

“Tell the guys I said hello.” 

Martin looked at Amanda, feeling her disappointment. “We’ll see ‘em again soon. I promise.” 

“I know. It’s just so quiet.” 

“I know.” Martin sighed. He got to his feet and hesitated; he rested a hand on Amanda’s arm and kissed her cheek. “I gotta go. I’ll see you real soon.” 

“Bye.” Amanda smiled up at him and got one final almost-smile from Martin before he left. 

Finishing her waffles Amanda took the dishes inside and went back to bed with every intention of sleeping til lunch. Thwarted by exuberant daylight and incessant bird chirping, Amanda gave up and put on another floral dress. Pottering around the giant house Amanda relocated some boxes, turned on the dishwasher, and watered the garden some more. Amanda waved to neighbours again as she pretended like she knew what she was doing in the topiary. 

After a near miss with some secateurs, Amanda abandoned the shrubbery. She grabbed her laptop and poured a beer into a glass before setting up comfortably on the front porch. The flash of bird she’d seen in her vision was niggling at her so Amanda googled birds until she was worried she’d give herself avian-themed nightmares. Excluding bird after bird after bird made Amanda cranky, then irritated, and then downright angry. 

Once again concluding that _this_ wasn’t the bird she was looking for Amanda looked up from her laptop to stare at the house opposite. A small number of dark birds – _European Starlings_ , she thought absently – flew around the street. They gave the house opposite her a wide berth. Amanda frowned. 

A few hours later when Martin returned, he found Amanda glaring at her laptop on the front porch. Approaching with an arm full of moving box, he tried not to laugh at her; Amanda’s face and demeanour were clearly not open to gentle mocking. He sat beside her and put the box at his feet. 

“Do I wanna ask?” 

Amanda closed her computer with a frustrated sigh. “I was trying to figure out what kind of bird I saw. I can now identify about a dozen types of birds confidently, and about another hundred with only slight confidence. But not the ones I saw. Or think I saw. Maybe I didn’t see anything, maybe I’m just making the whole thing up.” Amanda scowled. 

“Hey,” Martin said quietly, “you saw somethin’. You know you did.” 

“Then why can’t I remember what kind of bird it was? Or anything other than fries!” 

Martin took her hand carefully, smelling her anger in the air. “You want me to take it?” 

“No,” Amanda pouted, “it’s fine.” She took comfort in the warmth of Martin’s skin against hers. 

“Video games?” 

Amanda sighed again. “In a bit. How was the office? How are the boys?” She held his hand tightly. Being away from Cross, Gripps and Vogel was like a hole in her heart. 

“They miss you.” 

Amanda smiled and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “I really wish someone would try and kill us already. I want to go home.” 

“Me too.” Martin smelled her loneliness like salt on the air by the sea. “I brought somethin’ back.” He nudged the box with his boot. 

Amanda glanced down at the moving box. “I hope it’s more chocolate. I ate that box already.” 

“Let’s get inside before you open it.” Martin let go of her hand to pick up the box and moved to the front door. “You comin’?” 

Picking up her laptop and empty glass, Amanda went inside with Martin close behind her. Martin closed the door with his foot and followed Amanda to the living room where she sat on the couch with a sigh. 

“Go on,” Martin put the box on the floor in front of Amanda. 

With a questioning smile, Amanda lifted the lid of the box. She grinned. Inside was a six pack of Cross’s favourite beer, one of Vogel’s little league bats, and a whole stash of colourful nail polish bottles. “Oh my god,” Amanda couldn’t keep still and bounced a little. “It’s so perfect!” 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

Amanda lifted up the beer and saw another box of chocolate underneath. 

“Thought you might want some more.” 

Opening the chocolates Amanda ate one with a happy sigh. “So good.” 

“You want some help with the, the bird thing?” Martin tried. 

“I don’t want to see another winged creature for _at least_ the rest of the day.” Amanda sat back with the chocolate and cracked a beer.


	4. Chapter 4

_One month ago_

Dirk strolled through the empty living room, looking out of the bare windows and making a show of inspecting the latches. Todd waited in the doorframe. His arms were folded across his chest and he tried to keep the scepticism from his face. 

“And you can see here,” Corrine the real estate agent gestured toward the windows, “there’s beautiful natural light all year round.” 

“It’ll be perfect for the plants, won’t it, love?” Dirk asked with a smile. 

Todd kept it together. Just. “Sure.” 

“Now I know you were hoping for a two bedroom apartment but in this area, at your price point, it’s just not possible. But!” Corrine went through the living room to the single bedroom. “It’s a very spacious master with twin built-ins and a beautiful view of the park.” 

Dirk obligingly went to the double windows and admired the view. “It’s certainly a lovely outlook. Todd, come and see!” 

“I can see from here.” Todd smiled tightly and pretended to check out the wardrobe space. 

Corrine smiled, bemused at the couple’s antics. “There’s ample storage in the kitchen and bathroom as well.” 

“Could we have a moment please?” Dirk asked. 

“Of course.” Corrine smiled. “I’ll meet you out front.” 

Once the agent left, Dirk turned to Todd and grinned. “Isn’t it precious?” 

“It’s one bedroom! I can’t sleep on a foldout bed for however long this is going to go on, Dirk. The cost of my physiotherapy will bankrupt the agency.” 

Dirk rolled his eyes. “Todd, two adults can share a bed. I don’t even snore.” 

“Your feet are like icicles.” 

“If you’re attempting to reference the Pond Incident I had hypothermia, thanks very much.” 

Todd sighed. “You can’t be serious. This place is way too small! We’ll kill each other in here.” 

“Your apartment is technically smaller than this.” 

“Yes, and technically you don’t live in it.” Todd took a moment to pause; it was barely a technicality, with Dirk inviting himself in at all hours and sleeping on Todd’s couch more often than not. 

“The location is perfect! You can walk to the bank from here so no need to worry about a car, and we’re barely a suburb away from the case.” Dirk nodded encouragingly. He could see Todd was on the fence and utilised his secret, and only, weapon against his friend. Big, sad, blue eyes, slightly shiny with the possibility of tears, were aimed straight at Todd. “The light is so beautiful in here.” 

Todd sighed and looked toward the living room. If they put a couch right under the windows the light would hit him just right – _damnit_. “Sure. Whatever. We’ll take it.” 

“Excellent.” Dirk grinned knowingly and rushed to the real estate agent. “Corrine! We’ll take it! When can we sign the paperwork?” 

_Now - Wednesday_

A couple of bland, beige, boring and totally uninteresting days passed by. Amanda had completed the main story of Call of Duty and was now talking Martin through the campaign. She still won most of the battles but every round was a bit closer than the one before. 

After a particularly gruelling competition Amanda called a timeout for lunch. Strolling into the kitchen she went straight for the fridge and beers. “Cold pizza or,” she paused, “cold Chinese?” 

Martin stood right behind her, reaching around her for a beer before leaning against the fridge to assess the contents. “Chinese.” 

“Great! I’ll get forks.” Amanda ducked around Martin’s arm with a smirk. Opening the dishwasher without thinking, hot steam blasted Amanda’s face and she screamed as her skin blistered and melted. Martin ran to her, his hands outstretched. 

Amanda pushed him away and pressed her hands over her mouth to bury her screams. It was agonising; her flesh burned and peeled in excruciating waves. The pain was so overwhelming her stomach heaved. Amanda collapsed to her knees, still screaming against her hands with tears streaming down her face. The fear and panic overwhelmed Amanda’s mind and broke down her willpower in seconds; she reached for Martin, sobbing, begging him – 

Martin was there, breathing in deeply and taking the pain away. It took long painful seconds, the attack as extreme as the first time they’d fed from her. Martin got closer to gather her in his arms. “I got you, drummer girl. I got you.” 

Amanda looked at Martin for a moment before her eyes rolled back in her head. She fainted. 

Martin caught her and sat still for a moment, holding her carefully, while he waited for his heart to slow. Eventually he lifted Amanda from the floor and carried her to the couch. 

*

Twenty very long minutes later Amanda sat up with a gasp. “Martin?” 

“I’m right here.” Martin reached for her. 

Amanda shuffled along the couch to sit right by him as she remembered. “There were birds and fries and lights were flashing everywhere, like cop cars but worse. Brighter. And kites. Those big diamond ones. And a chainsaw.” Amanda leaned into Martin and rested her head against his shoulder, exhausted. “Birds. Fries. Flashing lights. Kites. Chainsaws.” 

“It worked?” 

Amanda nodded. “That _sucked_. My face melted off. I could feel my _bones_.” She shuddered. “But it worked. I saw something. Lots of things. Oh my god.” 

“Can we never do that again?” 

“Never.” Amanda nodded emphatically. She closed her eyes and curled up into Martin’s side. “I forgot how bad it hurts when you guys aren’t around.” 

Martin put his arm around her shoulders. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

“Do you know what this means? It means I’m _something_. Also, I was totally right.” 

“So what’s the vision mean?” 

“I have no idea.” 

Martin huffed a laugh. 

“That’s so helpful, thank you.” 

“So you’re somethin’, huh.” Martin relaxed back into the couch, pulling Amanda with him. “You’re lucky they didn’t find you.” 

Amanda sat up, her eyes wide. “Will they be able to find me now?” 

“There ain’t much left of ‘em. We’ll keep you safe.” Martin pulled her close again. “No more cages.” 

“No more cages.” Amanda sighed and closed her eyes. The solidly warm _realness_ of Martin was a much needed comfort and she relaxed into his side. “I’ve got a killer headache.” 

“You want Tylenol?” 

“Nah.” Amanda yawned. “I think I just want to go to sleep. Proper sleep, not recovering-from-an-attack-unconscious.” 

Martin looked down at her and almost managed to keep from feeling sick. He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Hey, are you ok?” 

“Yeah.” 

Amanda sat up, looking at him warily. “Really? Something’s off. You’re good at hiding but you’re not _that_ good.” 

After a long moment Martin gave in. “Watchin’ that never gets easier. Knowin’ I can’t help you makes it worse.” 

“I told you, I’m fine.” 

“You know I can taste it when somethin’s wrong. You try tastin’ the air around someone who’s skin is burnin’ off their body. You try watchin’ someone who knows they’re dyin’ and see how long you can last.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say right now. You think it’s hard to watch? Try _feeling_ it sometime!” Amanda scowled and pulled away from Martin entirely. She stalked upstairs and Martin could taste her anger like burnt toast. 

Martin followed and found her in the master bedroom, curled up amongst the bedding with her eyes shut. 

“I do not want to be near you right now.” Amanda said without looking. 

“It ain’t safe to be apart in here.” 

Amanda rolled over and away from him. “I don’t care. It’s not often you say dumb shit but when you do, it’s _really_ dumb. Go away.” 

“Manda-” 

“Don’t care.” Amanda pulled the blankets up over her head. 

Standing in the doorway Martin growled. Irritation was building and he wasn’t sure what to do with it; he hated when Amanda was mad at him. It had only happened a handful of times and usually he just went and stole her something awesome, like a case of champagne, and after the second bottle all was forgiven. If that didn’t work they made a special trip to destroy something cool and worked it out that way. Trapped in their pretend house Martin couldn’t just roll up and steal shit for Amanda or take her somewhere to break things. He was at a loss. 

Going out into the hallway, Martin pulled the burner phone out of his pocket and dialled. “Estevez?” 

Estevez answered immediately. “What’s wrong? Nothing’s coming up on the security system.” 

“I need you to do somethin’.” 

*

Farah liked spot checks. Front, right side, back, left side, rinse and repeat. Spot checks could be the difference between life and death. Failing a spot check had meant the homicidal dirt muppet, as Dirk liked to call her, had gotten the drop on Farah and she did not want a repeat of the experience. Front, right side, back, left side. The routine was calming. It shaped her day and put comforting limits on what was going to happen. 

“Spot checks again?” Dirk asked with a polite smile. 

“Always.” 

“Excellent.” Dirk looked around the street interestedly. Suburbia may as well have been another planet for all the familiarity it offered, but Dirk liked the way it all _matched_. Not quite as thoroughly as a movie he’d seen parts of once – no one’s cars matched their siding – but everything looked like it belonged. 

Something caught Farah’s attention and she stiffened. A woman was walking a tiny orange dog a few houses down. Farah kept her eyes on the woman; nothing was too small to escape scrutiny. The woman walked on by, not giving Farah’s car with tinted windows a second look. 

“Was that her?” Dirk asked eagerly. Something about her might have been – 

“Nope.” Farah glanced at the photos in her lap to re-confirm what she already knew. “Mary-Elizabeth Kensington is in her thirties, is five foot seven where that woman was around five foot two, and has no recorded pets. Plus, if this is anything to go by,” Farah gestured to the paperwork, “she’s unlikely to be outside in the fresh air.” 

“A very good point, Farah. You’re almost as good as me at swapping between the strike arm and the investigative arm of the agency.” 

Farah raised her eyebrows briefly. “Thanks.” 

“No problem!” 

“Why couldn’t Todd do this part? I know how much fun you two have on stakeouts.” 

Dirk blushed. “He couldn’t afford to blow cover at work. His _other_ work.” 

“Right.” 

“Aren’t you having fun?” Dirk looked worried. “I knew I should have brought donuts.” 

Farah laughed a little. “It’s fine, Dirk. Stakeouts don’t have to be fun.” 

“Oh yes they do!” Dirk patted his jacket pockets. “Aha! Gum? It’s grape flavoured.” 

“Ah, no, thanks. You keep it.” 

Dirk sighed and slumped back into his seat. “I should have got donuts.” 

A car appeared around the corner and drove slowly down the street. Farah watched it intently, still doing swift spot checks. The car pulled into the house they were watching and went straight into the two car garage. Farah and Dirk didn’t get a chance to see who was driving. 

Sitting back with a frustrated sigh, Farah glanced at the paperwork in her lap again. “The husband should be home within half an hour. I say we wait til he shows up, give it a little time to see if they do anything interesting, and then call it a day.” 

“I agree. Great plan. That way I should be home in time for dinner.” 

“Home in time for dinner?” 

“I am a stay-at-home partner, between jobs right now while my partner chases a promotion at the bank.” Dirk said smugly. “It’s my responsibility to have dinner on the table when he comes home.” 

Farah gave Dirk one hell of a look. “You know you’re not a nineteen fifties housewife right?” 

“Of course not!” Dirk was indignant. “I’m a nineteen fifties house husband.” 

“Right.” 

“That reminds me, does roast lamb need much cheese or is it more like a light dusting across the top?” 

“How about we stop in and get pizza instead?” Farah tried not to look too appalled at Dirk’s culinary failings. 

“Pizza works.” 

Farah stopped herself from sighing with relief; she just wasn’t emotionally prepared for another argument over cooking. In an effort to change the subject Farah cleared her throat. “It’s odd that virtually nothing came up on the official checks.” 

“Janice was very insistent that her sister knew the neighbours across the street.” 

“We’re short on leads, I guess.” Farah glanced at Dirk. “Any hunches yet?” 

Dirk sighed. He felt _something_ and it almost definitely wasn’t indigestion; it was faint, like a sigh where he almost expected a roar to propel him to where he needed to go. “We should stay. For now.” 

For the hundredth time Farah wished Dirk was a bit more precise. She didn’t like dealing in vague ideas and the man beside her seem to be comprised entirely of vague. Settling into her seat once again, Farah maintained her spot checks. 

A courier van entered the quiet street and immediately piqued Farah’s interest. She watched it pull into the house opposite the Kensington place and unpack a few boxes. The angle of the van obscured the front door entirely, but Farah kept a close watch anyway. Whoever lived there moved quickly; the boxes were gone before the van pulled out of the driveway. Farah sighed. 

“Don’t worry Farah. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.” Dirk smiled confidently. 

“You know, that’s almost reassuring.” 

Dirk beamed. 

Farah didn’t have the heart to tell him that the ‘almost’ part of the sentence was the really important part. 

*

When Amanda woke up, it was dark. The curtains were drawn shut but the light from the security system was enough to see by. Rolling over toward the closet, Amanda saw something that definitely hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. 

A couple of boxes and a bag sat by the wardrobe door. 

With a cautious frown, Amanda slowly climbed out of bed to inspect them. She turned on the light and smiled in spite of herself. 

“Moët? Nice.” Amanda’s attention moved to another, much smaller box atop the champagne. Opening its lid she found an elaborate cake. Sensing slightly surly Martin nearby, Amanda remarked, “this looks a lot like black forest cake, a particular favourite of mine. Weird.” 

Moving to the bag beside the champagne stack, Amanda tried not to squeal. Three more Call of Duty games were inside, as well as a few bottles of pancake mix. 

Martin appeared in the closet doorway. “Is that sorry enough?” 

“How did you get all this?” 

“Estevez.” 

Amanda laughed. “I would love to know how you explained this.” 

“I didn’t. Said I needed a favour and gave him a list.” 

“Uh-huh.” Amanda pulled out the games from the bag, pretending to read the covers. “Are you actually going to say sorry?” 

Martin was clearly uncomfortable. “Can’t we just get drunk and forget about it?” 

“Not a chance.” 

Martin growled. “I don’t like what the suburbs are doin’ to you.” 

“The longer you put it off, the worse it gets.” Amanda said with a grin. 

There was a brief staring competition that Amanda won with flying colours. Her raised brows and pursed lips reduced Martin’s defences very, very quickly. He sighed. 

“Sorry.” Martin ground out. 

Amanda smiled graciously. “Thank you. You may take the Moët downstairs.” She grabbed the bag and cake box and headed out the door. Martin picked up the champagne to follow, relieved. “You didn’t get away with it _that_ easily.” Amanda said over her shoulder. 

Looking at her oddly, Martin paused. He definitely hadn’t said anything aloud about it and Amanda wasn’t looking at him to read any body language. 

Amanda laughed, still not glancing his way. “I know you. I know you think that coz you got me some cool shit,” she looked at the haul, “some very cool shit, that all will be forgiven? Not quite. You know why that works when we’re on the road?” 

“Everyone likes presents?” 

Amanda rolled her eyes a little as she sat on the couch. “It works partly because I let it, and partly because it means you had to think about why you fucked up and _do something_ about it. All you did was make a phone call.” 

“I couldn’t leave you to go steal some shit to apologise.” 

“I know.” 

“So what am I meant to do?” 

Amanda shrugged. “Pancakes for dinner?” 

Martin raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?” 

“I can think up a bunch more weird shit if you want, but pancakes will probably do for now.” 

“You hungry now?” 

“Definitely.” Amanda took the cake into the kitchen, again leaving Martin to follow her. 

While Martin made pancakes Amanda made a start on a bottle of champagne. She poured the bubbles into two mugs and left one for Martin by the stove. He picked up the mug, adorned with a picture of a bulldog puppy, and gave Amanda a long look. 

“I do not trust you with champagne glasses. I don’t even know if we have proper glasses.” 

“What’s wrong with the bottle?” Martin flipped the cooking pancakes and looked at Amanda out of the corner of his eye. 

“I hate to be Captain Sensible right now, but we probably shouldn’t get blind ass drunk while waiting to be murdered? Cups will help us, or at least me, remember how much I’ve had.” Amanda watched Martin closely. “Can you even get that drunk?” 

Martin shrugged. He piled up the pancakes on a plate. “Kinda.” 

“Kinda?” 

With a sly smile Martin served up steaming hot pancakes. He got butter and syrup for Amanda before sitting with her at the bench. “Are they ok?” 

Amanda took a deliberate bite from her stack before adding syrup. “Definitely edible.” 

Martin laughed. “Guess who’s never gettin’ a pancake breakfast?” 

“Please. That would involve being _awake_ for breakfast.” 

Stuffing his face full Martin kept grinning. “Is this enough sorry yet?” 

Looking at Martin, Amanda gave in a little. Sometimes it was fun to niggle at him, to push his buttons and see what made him pop, but Amanda was too tired to enjoy the game. Staying mad was never a serious option and she could tell Martin was sorry anyway. Amanda smiled. 

“Good.” Martin ruffled her hair teasingly. 

Amanda laughed. “You know how weird that is?” 

“What?” 

“You. Just, knowing things.” Amanda looked away a little awkwardly. 

“Not everythin’. And some of it,” Martin paused, chewing thoughtfully, “some of it is knowin’ you.” 

“What’s the limit with what you guys can do?” 

“Limit?” 

“Yeah. Like, I know you can eat people’s emotions and stuff, but you can sense them too. What else do you do?” 

“Like party tricks?” 

“Sure, like party tricks.” Amanda rolled her eyes. 

Martin sat quietly for a moment. “Sometimes stuff breaks without us touchin’ it. In a brawl it can be hard to tell anyway. We can track people.” 

“But you’re the best at it?” 

“I had longer to practice. Blackwing had me longer to experiment on.” 

Amanda watched Martin’s eyes go bleak. She put her hand on his arm for a moment. “No more cages.” 

Glancing at her, Martin smiled a little. “It goes deeper than just sensing things about a person. You make it sound like we just watch things happenin’, like watchin’ TV, but it ain’t like that. It’s more,” he sighed, “more like, you’re in a play where everyone knows the words but you. You know what’s goin’ to happen coz you know the full story but your script ain’t right. You’re livin’ somethin’ that ain’t meant for you.” 

“Good thing you boys were made for each other.” 

“You are, too.” Martin said quietly, “you belong with us.” 

Amanda looked into Martin’s eyes, grinning hugely, when a flash of light pulled her attention away. “What the hell?” 

Immediately Martin looked behind him and out the kitchen window to see coloured lights strobing through the thin curtains. Martin moved to the window over the sink, sniffing deeply. Amanda followed, her senses on high alert. She passed a convenient box of junk and grabbed a heavy rolling pin. 

Carefully Amanda peered out the edge of the curtain. A rent-a-cop car was pulled over across the street, it’s orange flashing beacon making Amanda wince. It hurt to look at. Her heart skipped a beat. 

“Flashing lights,” Amanda reached for Martin’s hand and held it tightly. “Worse than a cop car.” 

Martin growled. He squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Let’s get to the living room.” Martin pulled her to the darkened main room with a better view of the house across the street. They kept to one side of the wide window to peek around the curtains. 

“Look,” Amanda pointed, “Brooke and Gary are outside.” 

The neighbours were on their front lawn in dressing gowns, chatting with some other locals and glancing at the house opposite. 

“I’ll call Estevez. You go and say hi.” Amanda prodded Martin. 

“No way. I ain’t leavin’ you alone.” 

“I’ll stay on the phone the whole time. Besides, at this point, it might look weirder if we _don’t_ interfere. Look.” Amanda pointed again; another pair of neighbours was approaching Brooke and Gary’s lawn. 

Martin glared at her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. Keep that thing handy.” He glanced at the rolling pin. 

“Always.” Amanda grinned, letting go of Martin’s hand to get her phone out of her dress pocket. “Go on, honey. Meddle with the neighbours.” 

Rolling his eyes, Martin waited until Amanda was on the phone to Estevez before leaving the house. 

Amanda caught Estevez up on the latest as she watched Martin heading for Brooke and Gary. He was lithe and graceful and she smiled knowing how hard he was working to contain the usual background level of violence. 

“Anything to report?” Estevez asked. 

“Nah.” Amanda sighed. “I think everyone’s inside. There’s no one in the car anyway. So what’s new with you?” 

There was a pause. “Keeping your little family contained is impossible.” 

“This is a surprise to you?” 

A long sigh came down the phone. 

“I told you, you were better off letting them loose. They’ll come to you if they need to and they won’t go far without Martin and me.” 

“The only reason they’re staying put is coz _you_ asked them to.” 

“Yep. You’re welcome.” Amanda heard the sound of typing keys in the background. “Did anything come up on the house?” 

“Nothing significant.” Estevez sighed. “If it’s just the local security team they don’t have to log anything with police. There was a noise complaint that got escalated to the cops about a year ago, but nothing since then.” 

“Weird.” Amanda watched the neighbours eventually dispersing from Brooke and Gary’s lawn. “Everyone went to one yard to find out what was up. My money’s on Brooke and Gary being neighbourhood gossips.” 

“Find out what you can but be careful ok?” Estevez reminded her. 

“For the record, I am rolling my eyes really hard right now.” Amanda smiled as she watched Martin come back home. He walked in the door and nodded satisfactorily to see Amanda still on the phone. “Gotta go. Talk soon.” She hung up. “Anything?” 

Martin stood by Amanda at the window, looking across the street. “Brad and Mary-Elizabeth have lived there almost three years, no kids, not real sociable. Never once came to a pot-luck.” 

“No!” Amanda gasped theatrically. 

“You shoulda seen Brooke’s face, it was like these people had personally spit in her cereal. Anyway, the folks right by them,” Martin nodded toward the house in question, “reckon there’s always fighting and weird noise at weird hours.” 

“And they don’t call the cops because?” 

“This is a ‘nice area’, remember?” 

Amanda fixed Martin with a deadpan stare. “People were literally murdered in this living room, remember?” 

“Point.” Martin gave a quick grin. “Someone at the school is related to someone in the local precinct. No one on the street wants gossip getting around school because of some weird neighbours.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what the hell that means.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

Amanda glanced back to the house across the street. “Either the house or the rent-a-cops are involved.” 

“Or connected.” 

“You sound like Dirk.” 

Martin growled. “Some stuff about that place rubbed off on all of us.” 

“I’m glad they didn’t find me.” Amanda shivered. 

“Me too.” “Wanna bring the champagne? I think we should keep watching til the security folks leave.” 

Martin left and quickly returned with drinks and a plate piled high with pancakes. They sat in the dark beneath the window, sipping champagne and eating, watching for movement across the street. 

“Can you smell anything? Or like, sense it, or something?” Amanda asked eventually. 

“Nothin’ yet.” 

“Maybe if you help me in the garden tomorrow you’ll catch something?” 

Martin looked faintly horrified. “Garden?”


	5. Chapter 5

_Thursday_

Nothing in Martin’s life had been at all predictable up to this point. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so surprised to be standing on the lawn in ripped jeans and an old tee, holding a pair of secateurs while Amanda assessed the progress. 

“To be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d sculpt a giant dick or something. A square is just so,” Amanda paused, “ordinary.” 

“Ordinary is the aim here, ain’t it?” 

Amanda sighed. “I guess.” 

Looking sideways at her, Martin smiled. “Next undercover suburban nightmare? Dick hedges.” 

“Perfect.” Amanda laughed. “Catch anything on the breeze yet?” 

Martin shook his head. “Nothin’ big enough to recognize, or track.” 

“What do we do if there’s something to track?” 

“Track it.” 

Amanda turned to face him properly and gave a disapproving frown. “We can’t blow our cover without damn good reason. Running off on a whim probably won’t cut it with Estevez.” 

Opening his mouth to reply, probably more sharply than was required, Martin caught something on the air. He went totally still and inhaled deeply, turning on the spot to try and find the scent’s origin. After a moment he let out a low growl. “That way.” 

“Of course.” Amanda looked at the house across the street. She saw Martin shift to take a step toward it and caught his arm easily, disturbing his hunt. He growled again, deeper this time. “We cannot. Blow. Cover.” Amanda said softly, her mouth curving into a falsely bright smile. 

A barking dog came bolting into their yard. It was a speedy orange fluff ball that was approximately fifty per cent motion and fifty per cent bark, and flitted around Amanda and Martin’s feet before heading across the road. 

“Pumpkin, come back here right this minute!” Someone shouted a few houses down. 

“Reason enough for ya?” Martin asked with a quick grin before running to follow the dog. Amanda stared for a second before following. 

“Pumpkin! Heel!” 

Amanda looked over her shoulder for the dog’s caretaker and saw a middle-aged woman in a dressing gown and half a business suit. She was barefoot and pissed off and running toward Amanda. 

“Did you see where he went?” 

“I think that way, my husband went after him.” Amanda said apologetically, looking at the quiet McMansion before them. 

Martin had slowed right down as he followed Pumpkin around the back of the house. He scanned the surrounds quickly; the fenced in yard would prevent any further escape routes but the abundance of damn hedges would give the dog a lot of places to hide. Martin closed the gate behind him to trap the dog in the yard and took a moment to find the hint of scent he’d caught earlier. 

That same tendril of tantalizing odour was intertwined with something else. The first smell was odd, like musty air, but now it was buried in with a wholly new and strange olfactory experience. It was like an old room, old dirt, old blood, old old old… 

Pumpkin the dog yipped and with uncanny dexterity managed to find the one basement window that was open. With a happy wriggle the dog pushed the window open and fell inside with a surprised bark. 

Martin dove for the window and opened it properly. He squeezed through the gap and managed a graceful roll when he landed inside. Fortunately the basement was locked down and Pumpkin the irritating dog had nowhere else to run. Instead he was sniffing at skirting boards, investigating. The room was huge and empty but something was off. 

The smell of old filled Martin’s nostrils and burned. It coated his mouth and tongue until he could taste it, gritty like sawdust and nauseating. The stench was finding its way inside his body and forcing itself into his head. Instinctively Martin pushed back and away. Something about it reminded him of cages and pain and he broke out in a sweat. Everything that tied him to the bigger picture, the threads that pulled and pushed him all his life, was trying to get him out of that room. 

Without being even slightly delicate about it Martin grabbed the dog and shoved him out through the window. Vaulting up to the ledge easily Martin chinned himself up and followed the animal. 

Martin kicked the window shut and scrambled away, panting. He was shaking and wanted to vomit out the taste of whatever the hell had tried to get in his head. Looking up at the house Martin felt his mouth fill with bile. He swallowed quickly; he’d already been gone too long. 

Looking toward the cowering Pumpkin, Martin whistled sharply. The dog trotted over quickly with his tail between his legs. Martin scooped him up and stood, easily holding the little thing in one arm, and went straight for the gate. He left quickly and didn’t look back. 

“Pumpkin!” The presumed owner cried, pleased but clearly exasperated. “You ridiculous little bastard, what do you think you’re _doing?_ ” She held her arms out for the dog. 

Martin handed the animal over gladly. “I mighta scared ‘im a little to make ‘im stay put.” 

Amanda’s eyes were wide with barely disguised fear; she could see Martin was working hard to appear normal but something was definitely not ok. He _felt_ wrong. 

“Whatever it takes,” the woman said emphatically. “He’s a shit of a thing but I love him dearly. He knows it, too. I’m Lila, by the way. I’m at number twenty-seven.” 

“Hi, Lila,” Amanda recovered, tearing her eyes away from Martin. “I’m Mandy and this is Mark. We just moved in across the street.” 

Lila almost kept the surprise from her face. “How lovely. Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Lila pulled her dressing gown around her with an embarrassed smile. “Hopefully I’ll be a little more dressed the next time we run into each other!” 

“It’s no problem,” Amanda tried to reassure her. “I live in pjs til at least lunchtime when I can.” 

Lila laughed. “Me too. Evidently. Thanks for catching Pumpkin.” She turned to Martin and smiled. “I’ve got to be going, but if you ever need a cup of sugar or anything, come on down and say hi.” Lila made Pumpkin give a little wave before turning and heading down the street. 

Amanda put her arm around Martin’s waist, ostensibly in wifely thanks but the reality was she wasn’t sure how long Martin could stay upright. “Come on honey, let’s take a break.” They headed toward their house, Martin shaking lightly against Amanda. 

As soon as she’d closed the front door behind them Martin fell to his knees and heaved. Amanda crouched beside him, resting a warm hand on Martin’s back and feeling his muscles contract as he puked. After a moment Martin sat back to lean against the wall, his eyes closed, breathing heavily. 

“What the hell?” Amanda whispered. 

“That damn dog went into the basement and I followed him. Somethin’ tried to get in my head. Only Rowdies allowed in there. Somethin’ else wanted in.” Martin answered just as quietly. 

“What do you mean, something tried to get into your head?” 

“Me an’ our boys. We’re in each other’s heads. You know that.” 

“Kind of,” Amanda admitted. She sat beside Martin. “I don’t really know what it means. None of you are big on explaining.” 

With his eyes still closed, Martin smiled. “Means I know what they need. What they’re feelin’. Means we don’t have to talk much.” 

“How? How is that possible?” 

“Now you’re worryin’ about what’s possible and what’s not?” Martin opened his eyes a crack. “You have visions when psychic vampires eat your hallucinations.” 

“Ok, that’s a point.” 

Martin smiled and sighed. “Somethin’ over there wanted in my head. Tried to push in where nobody but my Rowdy boys belong.” He shuddered. 

“So this is definitely a universe thing.” 

“Definitely.” 

“Great. What could it be? And why would some random thing want to get inside your head?” 

Martin shrugged. “Somethin’ bad. Probably somethin’ like me, or Icarus. Hopefully not Marzanna, but if it was her we’d be dead already.” 

“Did anything smell familiar?” 

“No.” Martin frowned. “Yes. It smelled like that place.” He growled and his eyes went distant. 

Feeling his anger build was like watching a pot begin to boil. Amanda gripped Martin’s arm tightly. “Hey. There’s no cages here.” 

“No cages.” Martin glanced at her and returned to himself. “It smelled like – it felt like – Blackwing.” 

“We need to tell Estevez.” 

“Tell him what? That somethin’ a lot not normal is over there and made me sick?” 

“We’ve got to tell him something. It’s not fair to let regular people wade into whatever the hell that is,” Amanda pointed toward the house in question, “without giving them some kind of warning. What could it do to normal people?” 

“I don’t know. It could be worse coz normal folks ain’t got a clue how to keep shit out of their heads. It could be nothin’ if a person ain’t already used to that kind of shit.” He glared at her instantly. “ _No experiments_.” 

“No experiments.” Amanda agreed. She shivered. “This just got a whole lot weirder. I kind of hoped it’d be regular human serial killers. That’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.” 

Martin laughed a little. “I need a shower. I need to get this stink off me.” 

“Is it like stale air?” 

Staring at her, Martin was silent for a long moment. “How can you know that?” 

Amanda leaned a little closer to his shoulder to sniff at the fabric of his shirt. Where she expected to find sweat and washing powder was the faint musty smell. “It’s on your shirt.” 

Hurriedly Martin pulled off the shirt and left it on the floor. He sniffed at his skin and grimaced. “I’ll come back and clean up. I gotta shower.” 

“I never thought I’d see you desperate for a shower.” Amanda mused. “I’ll clean up.” 

“No. I ain’t leavin’ you alone now I know what’s waitin’ over there. No way.” 

“Who needs personal space anyway? Come on.” Amanda got to her feet and pulled Martin up. She did an admirable job of not staring at his bare torso. “If you know what it is, to a point, does ‘it’ know what _you_ are?” 

Martin slowly climbed the stairs as he thought. “Probably. If it felt like Blackwing then it mighta been there, too.” 

“Do you know any of the others who were there?” 

“No. They kept us separate, mostly. When we broke out I was too busy destroyin’ everythin’ I could see to take note of name tags.” 

“No need to be so narky with me,” Amanda said lightly, following Martin to the bedroom, “I was just asking a question. It’s not like I have a heap of information to draw on here.” 

Martin growled, stalking into the bathroom. He stood in the doorway and glared. “You don’t know what it was like.” 

“No, I don’t, and I don’t pretend to.” Amanda said with uncharacteristic softness. “This just got a whole lot more dangerous than we thought it would. Anything you can remember, about that place or anything else, might help keep us alive.” She stepped closer to him. “I don’t pry for fun. I can feel how much it hurts when I do.” 

“You can what?” 

Amanda shrugged. “I can tell it sucks to talk about it. Before I wanted to know because I hate secrets. I know why none of you talk about what happened, and I get it, but it’s still a shitty feeling when you don’t know the truth. But now? Now it might be the difference between surviving and – not surviving.” 

There was a long pause. Martin just stared while he tried to reorganise his thoughts. “For all I know, whatever is in that house coulda been in the cell next to ours, or across the hall. The familiarity starts and ends with the smell. It smells like Blackwing.” 

Amanda felt a shiver down her spine when Martin spat out _Blackwing_. “Ok. So it’s probably a person? And it can do something really weird, if the rest of you are anything to go by.” 

“Thanks a heap.” 

“No problem.” Amanda grinned. “With an unknown possibly psychic killer enemy across the street, stroking your ego is not a priority right now.” 

Martin narrowed his eyes and growled lightly. 

Amanda kept grinning, spotting the playfulness in Martin’s blue eyes. “Go shower already. You stink.” 

With a quick smile Martin closed the door almost all the way. The water turned on and steam seeped out of the door crack. Amanda sat in front of the security screens with a sigh. The prospect of an unknown weirdo across the street with unknown abilities in the realm of Martin’s – and her own – made Amanda feel sick. The weird smell on Martin’s clothes stayed in her nose somehow. She rubbed her nose and sneezed but the smell wouldn’t go away. Amanda’s stomach rolled. 

The water stopped and Martin appeared in the doorway, a towel around his waist and his hair damp. “Manda? What is it?” 

“I can still smell it. Whatever was on your shirt. It’s so gross it’s making me feel sick.” 

Martin scented the air around her and snarled. “Get in the shower. Now. It’s on you, I can smell it. Go.” Martin opened the door wider. “I can’t touch you or it’ll transfer right back to me. Get in.” 

“I think I’m gonna hurl.” 

“Do it in the bathroom. Come on. Manda I can’t touch you, you gotta move.” 

Amanda groaned and lurched toward the shower. She turned the water on and stood under it, fully clothed, before bending over and putting her hands on her knees. 

“Your body’s fightin’ it, let it fight.” Martin advised. He stood close by the gigantic shower, watching cautiously. 

“I feel mega hungover. My head is killing me.” Amanda groaned again before she vomited. It didn’t last and Amanda waited for the water to wash everything away before she sat under the stream. Slowly she pulled off her sandals and pushed her wet hair back from her face. 

“You feel better?” 

Amanda looked at Martin. “No experiment required. That shit is literally contagious.” Moving slowly Amanda peeled her shirt off and sniffed it. “I can’t smell it anymore.” She held it out. 

Keeping his eyes down Martin took the dripping fabric and brought it to his face. “It’s gone.” 

“Ok. Running water gets rid of, whatever the hell that was.” Amanda closed her eyes. “Good to know. It can also be contagious between people who are _otherwise_. Less good. Were we targeted?” 

“I don’t know.” Martin left the shirt on the vanity and leaned against the bench, carefully avoiding looking at Amanda. “The dog seemed random but nothing is coincidence.” 

“You kinda sound like Dirk.” 

Martin hmphed. He folded his arms across his chest. “We might need him.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“He fixes things. Sort of.” Martin closed his eyes to try and think clearly. He felt the universe trying to constrict around him, funnel him down a certain path. He rolled his shoulders and growled a little. “Icarus was the pet. What they wanted him to do was predict things, but what he _does_ is just exist and pull everythin’ around him. He’s a focal point for whatever the universe wants.” 

“And what does that make you?” Amanda asked. 

Martin met her eyes and grinned savagely. “Sometimes we push things along. Sometimes we get pushed.” 

“What does it feel like?” 

“Irritatin’ as hell. Do I look like the kind of guy who likes bein’ told what to do?” Martin snorted. “It feels like a dream when you’re fallin’, but you’re awake.” 

Amanda nodded. She got to her feet slowly and shut off the water. Martin handed her a towel. “Can I have a minute?” 

Without further word Martin turned and left, not quite closing the door behind him. 

Grimacing at the feeling of peeling wet clothes off her skin, Amanda stripped off and got dry. The shaky feeling was fading and even though she tasted vomit, it was infinitely preferable to the weird musty smell and taste that was fast becoming a bad memory. Amanda scrubbed her teeth before going back into the wardrobe, wrapped snugly in a fluffy towel. 

“So, we need Dirk?” Amanda asked. “I’m sure if I ask Farah she can put us in touch.” 

“If he’s meant to be involved, he’s already here.” 

*

Todd let himself into the apartment and dumped his bag on the floor. “Dirk? You home?” He didn’t fully realise how easily the domesticity had settled over both of them. They’d moved in together a few weeks ago and Todd already knew the sight that awaited him. Dirk would be sprawled across the living room rug, surrounded by papers and markers and pens, his brow furrowed with concentration and about twenty half-drunk cups of tea littering every flat surface. 

Pulling off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway, Todd went through the kitchen to find Dirk almost exactly as he expected to. The false moustache was a surprise, particularly the way it sat over Dirk’s regular brows like a frightening caterpillar. 

“Todd! Is that the time? Shit.” Dirk leapt up and somehow didn’t disturb a single half-empty mug of cold tea. “I was going to try and make lasagne before you got home.” 

“So I made it just in time,” Todd joked. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “There’s some leftover spaghetti.” He got the container out to reheat yesterday’s dinner on the stove. 

“How was work?” 

Todd groaned. “Somehow I’d forgotten how much I hate menial jobs.” 

“Are you making friends?” Dirk sat at the breakfast bar and absently played with the false moustache/monobrow. 

“Yes. With some of the most boring people on the planet. Do you know what music they play in the lunchroom? It’s like some nightmare mix of pop from ten years ago and shitty jazz.” Todd shuddered. 

Dirk affected a look of concern. “How terrible.” 

“I don’t think you really appreciate how much effort is going into this,” Todd insisted, “I’ve actually had to learn a whole bunch of shit to make this convincing.” 

“Todd, you know I can’t clutter my mind up with something so pedestrian as a _job_. I need to be available for all the possibilities of the universe.” 

“Sure, Dirk.” Todd fixed his roommate-slash-pretend-boyfriend with a long look. “Just make sure you never write that down on a job application. Did you get any hunches today? Or leads, or something?” 

Dirk shook his head but didn’t look at all disappointed. “It’ll come to me at exactly the moment it’s supposed to.” 

“Great. I’ll just pretend to give a shit about this nine-to-five soul-crushing adventure in the meantime.” 

“Good plan.” 

Todd just stared for a moment before sighing. “We’ve been invited to a dinner on the weekend.” 

“Dinner? How exciting. Who with? What for? Where?” 

“The section manager wants to meet you. My partner. Oh god.” Todd rubbed his eyes. “How are we going to pull this off? Why couldn’t I pretend to be married to Farah?” 

“She plays a convincing housewife about as well as you play an oboe.” 

“How do you know I don’t play a wind instrument?” 

“That’s besides the point, Todd. Farah is brilliant as a tactician and is integral to the strike team of the agency, but you and I,” Dirk waggled his eyebrows, causing the moustache-monobrow to fall to the ground, “are the investigative team. It’s our job to investigate.” 

Todd sighed again. “The question stands, Dirk. How are we going to pull this off?” 

“Well,” Dirk slid off the breakfast bar stool and slowly approached Todd. “I think it’ll be pretty easy. Don’t you?” He reached up and clasped his hands behind Todd’s neck, bringing them closer together. “After all, we’re already friends. Clearly there’s already a fondness here.” 

Todd’s mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. ‘Sahara in the summer’ kind of dry. His lips felt cracked and he fought the urge to lick them. Unfortunately Todd couldn’t command his arms to stay by his sides; of their own volition they wrapped around Dirk’s waist. Todd’s heart picked up speed. 

“You see?” Dirk said delightedly. He pulled away and returned to the breakfast bar, apparently entirely unaffected by the very recent touching. And mingling breath. Oh, and the now burning skin on Todd’s neck and the memory of thin fabric separating his hands from enticingly warm skin – 

_Shit shit shit_. “Yep. Easy. Whatever.” Todd stared at the reheating spaghetti like a man possessed. 

Dirk prattled on while Todd finished heating food, the pair of them sitting at opposite ends of their small couch to eat. Halfway through his bowl Dirk paused, looked very thoughtful, and spoke cautiously. 

“What’s Amanda up to?” 

Todd quickly replayed the last few seconds of conversation and couldn’t find any connections. “She’s still not talking to me. Why?” 

Dirk shrugged. “Just thinking aloud.” 

“Thinking what?” 

His thoughts were clearly elsewhere; Dirk put the bowl down slowly and turned to what Todd affectionately called the conspiracy board. “Where’s Amanda?” Dirk asked quietly. 

Todd knew this was the end of conversation for the night. He turned on the TV and finished his dinner, watching shitty procedurals til he dozed on the couch. Eventually Dirk roused Todd enough to help him to bed. With a sleepy smile Dirk climbed in beside his pretend boyfriend and rested his hand on Todd’s chest. It was important to be consistent with the pretending, Dirk reasoned. The way Todd’s body was so warm beneath his hand had nothing to do with it at all.


	6. Chapter 6

_Friday morning, barely_

It had to be a dream. There was no way that what Amanda was seeing was real. 

She stood in the beige nightmare of a bedroom surrounded by impossible red webs. Every inch of the room was full of crisscrossing, interwoven threads, like a ridiculously complex 3D puzzle. Some of the webs touched Amanda and rested against her skin, soft as a breeze on her flesh. Others were wrapped around her. Others seemed to avoid her. Amanda looked to the bed and was relieved to see Martin, even though he was sound asleep. The same webs wrapped around him. Try as she might Amanda couldn’t look down to see if anything tied her to Martin. 

A thread around her wrist pulled gently. Amanda lifted her hand to see it and saw the web leading out the open door. At that Amanda frowned; she had definitely closed and locked it before they went to sleep. 

The thread pulled a little more insistently. Amanda followed its direction and went downstairs and paused at the basement door. She shivered. 

“Martin?” Amanda couldn’t look toward the bedroom but she didn’t want to go any further without him. Something didn’t feel right without Martin there. The thread around her wrist pulled again and Amanda couldn’t refuse it; she opened the door and went downstairs. 

The musty stench swamped Amanda’s senses, making her stomach heave and her eyes water. The threads were a tangled mess, the web pulling in all directions and Amanda lost her way entirely. The basement turned into a cave with far too many shadows and no apparent source of light – apart from the webbing that now, of course, glowed. 

“Oh shit,” Amanda whispered, turning this way and that, searching for a way out. It was starting to feel uncomfortably real. Stones dug into her bare feet and there was way too much breeze for a basement. A flash of light behind her caught Amanda’s attention and she spun to face it. In the middle of the burst she saw someone’s profile, someone a little taller than her with floppy hair and narrow shoulders. “ _Dirk?_ ” 

“Amanda? What on earth are you doing here?” 

“I have never been so glad to see you. Where are we?” 

“I’ve _no_ idea. What is that _smell?_ ” 

The stink hit Amanda with renewed force and she closed her watering eyes as she coughed. 

“Manda! What the hell!” 

Blinking against the sudden light Amanda struggled to focus on the person in front of her. “Dirk?” 

“Not even close.” Martin growled. “What the hell are you doin’ down here? We ain’t supposed to be apart.” 

Amanda stared for a second before quickly looking around the room. It was the well-lit basement of her pretend house with its concrete floor and bare walls. Looking at her wrist and at Martin there were no more webs. It took another moment before Amanda registered Martin’s hands on her shoulders. 

“What are you doin’, Drummer? Apart from givin’ me a heart attack.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I wake up and you’re gone and – and you’re somehow too far away for me to know where you are? What the hell.” Martin’s eyes were wide and panicked. 

“I don’t know.” Amanda repeated. She shivered again and stepped into Martin for warmth; her pyjamas were light and the basement was cool. Martin was solid and real and she wrapped her arms around him as she spoke. “There were threads. Tying me to, to other threads, and one of them pulled me here. I didn’t have a choice. It wouldn’t let me get you. It barely let me look at you. And then when I got here there was so many and then it was a cave and then I saw Dirk. I think. And it stank, oh god is it on me again?” 

Martin curled his arms around her and took the excuse to smell Amanda’s hair. He shook his head. “Nope, you’re good.” He pulled away and looked at her closely. “Threads?” 

“They were everywhere. I could walk through some of them. They glowed in the cave, too.” 

“Shit.” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

Martin growled, looking around the basement but not letting Amanda go. “That sounds an awful lot like you bein’ pushed.” 

“Pushed? Great.” Amanda sighed. “So why pushed down here? Alone?” 

“Not too alone,” Martin reminded her, “I woke up. I found you. I’ll always find you as long as you want me to.” 

“Always.” Amanda said immediately. 

Martin smiled briefly. “So why the basement?” 

“Is there something down here? Something the cops missed?” Amanda looked around. “Something in this perfectly redone basement? Why is it empty down here?” 

“The basement over there was empty too. Empty of furniture anyway.” 

Amanda pulled away from Martin entirely to inspect the walls. She ran her fingers along the drywall and felt the cold concrete beneath her feet. “I think I know what we need to do.” 

*

Dirk awoke to Todd leaning over him. For a brief and beautiful moment he thought something entirely _nice_ might be happening, but then he remembered the dream. “Shit.” 

“Dirk, are you ok? You were saying some weird shit. Even for you.” 

“Fine, fine.” Dirk sat up and batted Todd away. “Just dreams.” 

“You’ve never talked in your sleep before.” 

“What did I say?” 

“I think you were talking to Amanda?” 

Dirk fought to remember the dream; it had been dark but lasers crisscrossed the gloom and he seemed to have been directly under a streetlight. He’d heard Amanda but couldn’t see her. “Oh it stank!” 

Todd laughed sleepily. “Yeah you mentioned that. I thought maybe you just farted in your sleep or something.” 

“No, Todd, no human could have been responsible for the smell. It was – oh yuck,” Dirk retched a little at the memory, “honestly, I’ve never smelled anything so bad in all my life.” 

“Nothing smells in here.” Todd tried to reassure Dirk. “Your breath is about the only contender.” 

“Thanks so much.” 

“Is it,” Todd yawned, “is it a universe thing?” He lay back down and stretched. 

Dirk frowned. “Everything’s a universe thing.” 

“Great. I’m going back to sleep.” 

“Goodnight, Todd.” Dirk smiled as Todd fell back asleep easily beside him. Dirk lay awake for a lot longer, trying to ignore the feeling of spider webs against his skin. They weren’t pulling him anywhere – not yet – but soon. 

Really Dirk should have tried for more sleep. It was probably going to be in incredibly short supply once those threads tightened around his neck, but Dirk wanted to memorise the peacefulness on Todd’s face before everything inevitably went to shit. There was no guarantee that they’d come out of whatever was next unscathed and Dirk lived in constant, quiet fear of several things, realistically, but top on the list was losing Todd. 

*

_Friday, a slightly more reasonable hour_

“ _Remodelling?_ ” 

Amanda grinned. “Yes, Estevez, remodelling. It’s a blank slate down there and I’ve watched enough reality TV to know that bitches love renovations.” 

Estevez sighed down the phone. 

“Think about it, we can totally disguise whatever noise we make down there with some home demo story. Plus I’ll get to break something _real._ ” Amanda’s eyes lit up. She of all people knew that Call of Duty was a mere stopgap and she longed to feel something tangible smash beneath her weapon of choice. Amanda could sense Martin’s anticipation too; it was enough to make her pace as she spoke. 

Estevez sighed again. “You got those credit cards I gave you?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Use ‘em. I’ll clear the expense. You listen to me, Ms Brotzman, the minute – the _second_ – you find something, you call me. If you handle something or touch something we may not be able to use it for evidence and then this whole operation’s a bust.” 

“I have also seen enough crime shows to know not to touch anything.” Amanda tried to reassure him though her eyes were rolling wildly. Martin tried not to laugh. “We got this.” She hung up. 

“We gonna destroy the basement?” Martin growled. His eyes were bright, brighter than Amanda had seen in days. She shivered happily. 

“In a slightly controlled demolition kind of way, but yes. Yes, we’re gonna destroy the basement. But.” 

“But?” 

“We gotta go to Home Depot first.” 

Martin snarled. 

“We can’t sell the story without props. You got a pair of jeans without holes in them?” 

“Do _you?_ ” 

Amanda grinned. 

*

Sitting in the car, looking at the frightfully regular crowd, Amanda took a deep breath. She hadn’t even tried taking the boys anywhere normal since she joined them; they were just too delightfully unpredictable. Beside Amanda, with a rapidly disappearing cigarette in his mouth, Martin scowled deeply. 

“Are you-” 

“Fine.” 

Amanda shifted in her seat and looked at Martin directly. “I wish I could eat your pain the way you can eat mine.” 

“What makes you think I’m hurtin’?” 

“Please.” Amanda rolled her eyes a little. “I don’t have to read your mind to know this sucks for you. Let’s be real, no one likes Home Depot, so let’s get this done ok? We’ll need hammers, paint tin samples, dust masks. What else?” 

“Sledgehammer.” 

“Of course.” 

“Jackhammer?” 

“I don’t think we can pass that off as home renovations.” Amanda said apologetically. “Look, do you need like a, a snack or something? Is your blood sugar running low, or whatever the deal is?” 

Martin glanced at her. “You can’t have an attack on command.” 

“No, but I can definitely get angry on command. You can have that, if you want?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Amanda frowned. “I’m gonna worry about it. I need you to carry shit and not actively scare the shit out of people and I just don’t think you can do that right now. If you’re about to growl at me,” Amanda smiled slightly, “then you’re just proving my point.” 

Martin curled his upper lip and looked away. 

With a knowing smirk Amanda remembered how angry the unidentified bird from her vision made her. The frustration made her hands clench and she caught the moment Martin’s nostrils flared. Amanda leaned in close. 

There was just a moment’s hesitation before Martin pressed his forehead to Amanda’s and breathed in deeply. Amanda closed her eyes as the anger flowed out of her in a steady haze. It wasn’t long before the anger was gone entirely and Amanda leaned against Martin, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. 

“You alright?” Martin asked, his voice a little thick. He helped Amanda ease back into her seat. 

“Mm, fine,” Amanda blinked rapidly, “just a little wiped.” 

“Coffee?” 

“Coffee and shopping for home renovations,” Amanda yawned, “how damn suburban.” They got out of the car and headed for the coffee stand by Home Depot. Ordering massive paper cups and adding a few pastries, they headed into home supplies hell. 

Amanda led the way, pushing a cart through the fortunately thin weekday crowds, Martin following close behind. She filled the cart with junk they’d need to convince the neighbours their destruction was all in the name of basement renovations. Amanda continued on to the paint aisle and paused in front of the swatch wall. She picked up a few pieces of coloured cardboard and snorted. 

“What do you think, honey? ‘Morose lakefront’ or maybe ‘angry ocean’?” 

Martin looked considerably out of his depth. “Why are paints named after emotional bits of nature?” 

“Someone’s gotta get super high to come up with some of these, I swear to god.” Amanda laughed. “Check this out, ‘bereft eucalypt’, ‘dependable oyster’, holy shit. What colour is an undependable oyster?” 

“I don’t wanna know. Just pick whatever.” 

“Thanks for coming along,” Amanda said sweetly. She smiled up at Martin and he couldn’t help but give a small grin in return. “I like these ones.” Amanda held up a fistful of swatches all along the vaguely yellow end of the spectrum. 

“What, no sad river, or whatever the hell that was?” 

Amanda shook her head. “Dark green and grey is a bad choice for interiors. Makes everything seem small and closed in. In the basement, which already has a lower roofline than the rest of our house,” Amanda smiled, “we want something bright. It gives the illusion of space and warmth.” 

“You’re actually putting thought into this?” 

“Can I tell you a secret? I always wanted to paint my bedroom yellow as a kid. I wanted to live inside a star – before I found out that stars were giant balls of fiery gassy death.” 

Martin laughed. “I wanted to paint the Millennium Falcon on my bedroom wall. My ma wasn’t real happy about it.” 

“You like Star Wars?” 

“Who doesn’t?” Martin paused. He looked away, his brows furrowed. “I saw the third one at the theatre with my folks. I forgot. How did I forget?” 

Amanda stood close and put her hand on Martin’s shoulder. Touch seemed to bring him back from the dark places in his head faster than conversation. “Hey,” she said quietly, “you’re ok. I got you.” 

“Yeah.” Martin cleared his throat. Amanda’s hand on him was a lifeline and he wondered how much she could get from him when he didn’t say a word. “Yeah.” 

“Maybe we can watch the movies later? After some _home renovations?_ ” 

Martin grinned and went to tousle Amanda’s hair. She danced away from him, laughing. 

“Excuse you, husbands do _not_ ruffle their wife’s hair in the paint aisle.” 

“This one does.” Martin growled playfully and attempted to catch Amanda in a bear hug. She evaded him easily to duck away and swipe at his springy faux hawk. “Oh, low blow.” 

“Pfft, you shot first.” Amanda stuck her tongue out. “Let’s get these samples and get out of here, before I kick your ass in front of the entire store. I don’t think your ego could survive it.” 

“You’re the sorest loser I ever met.” 

“How would you know?” Amanda retorted. “I never lose.” 

Martin grinned, fixing his playful stare on Amanda as they shopped. 

With a cart full of supplies they lined up at the checkout. Amanda smiled warmly at the cashier, a young woman with green hair. 

“This is quite the haul,” the cashier remarked, scanning the items through. 

“We’re _finally_ updating the basement,” Amanda looked at her mock-husband meaningfully. “It’ll be fit for in-laws before you know it and I won’t have to give up my whole house next Thanksgiving.” 

“What a relief,” the cashier played along. 

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely,” Amanda put her hand on Martin’s arm, “but if I never have to sit through your father watching another holiday football match it’ll be too soon.” 

The cashier stifled a grin. “My wife’s mother doesn’t believe in use-by dates. I understand the sentiment.” 

Amanda smiled. “Don’t you just love it when their parents are in your kitchen?” 

“Like a hole in the head,” the young woman said emphatically. She rang up the total and Amanda swiped the fake credit card with a smile. “You folks have a lovely day. Good luck with those renovations.” 

“Thanks so much.” Amanda gave a little wave goodbye and they headed out to the parking lot. “What.” 

Martin looked at her sideways. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to.” Amanda leaned against the side of their car. 

“How are you so good at that?” 

“At what?” 

Martin took a moment to think while he unloaded the cart. “People. I know you say you didn’t have friends before, but,” he looked at her closely, “you’re good at people. You always know what to say.” 

“It’s really not a stretch most of the time. She had a wedding ring on and smiled properly when I mentioned needing space from in-laws,” Amanda shrugged, “pretty much no one has a perfect relationship with their in-laws.” 

“You ever think it’s part of your bein’ _somethin’?_ ” 

“Nah. When I couldn’t leave the house, couldn’t face the thought of an attack outside,” Amanda’s eyes went dark, “I missed people. I missed conversation, and friends. When I did try and have people over it was always weird and I couldn’t figure out why. After a lot of research into human behaviours and deception techniques – I had a lot of spare time – I realised what I was seeing on the faces of my former friends.” Amanda sighed bitterly. “Pity. Sympathy. Disbelief, from some of them. Some of them didn’t think I was sick.” 

“Why would anyone fake that?” 

Amanda shrugged. “Who knows. Once I figured it out I stopped inviting them over. They wouldn’t usually show up anyway.” 

“Let’s go break some shit.” Martin said in a low voice. 

“Hell yes.” Amanda grinned. Her gaze shifted from Martin to glance at something behind his shoulder. 

“What?” Martin looked behind him quickly. “I can’t sense anythin’.” 

“I thought – never mind. Let’s get out of here.” 

*

Dirk wandered through the massively stacked shelves of Home Depot. It had made sense to leave Todd out of this part of the plan; it wasn’t much of a plan at all and would have taken too long to explain to Todd anyway. Though his assis-friend was getting better at accepting the hunches that played a huge part in his _investigative process_ , some things were just easier left alone. A weekday urge to buy house supplies wasn’t going to be easy to explain. 

Which was why Dirk strolled around the suburban crowds alone, pushing a squeaky little cart, pulling in a truly strange assortment of goods. He even got a paint sample tin of a buttery, warm yellow colour. Not Dirk’s usual tone but pleasant nonetheless. 

Why did the universe want him to buy renovation supplies? As far as Dirk knew the victims he was ‘investigating’ weren’t killed in a peculiar remodelling incident. Besides, his rental agreement didn’t allow for structural changes. Maybe he’d be allowed to paint the living room? Dirk smiled at a recent beloved memory of catching Todd napping on the couch in the afternoon sun. In many ways Todd reminded Dirk of a put-out but inevitably lovable cat; grouched when disturbed, pretended to be mad when he wasn’t really, and had a tendency to immediately doze in a warm patch of sunlight. 

Thinking of the living room, Dirk meandered over to the garden section and picked out a bunch of plants. More greenery in the living room was always a good idea. Todd couldn’t possibly hate plants as much as he pretended. 

Dirk felt the pull of the universe fade as he stared at ferns. He sighed. Whatever had compelled him to a Home Depot, of all places, would return when the time was right. In the meantime, Dirk had new plants to pot and name. The cactus in particular looked like a Stanley. 

*

Martin had been prowling the basement for what felt like forever. It was actually only a couple of minutes but Amanda was so desperate to break something she was practically salivating. 

“Here.” Martin finally stopped and pointed at a part of the wall. He got close to it, breathing deeply. 

Amanda remembered the night the boys had saved Todd and Dirk in the basement of the Ridgely. Martin had done the same thing then, getting close to the wall to find the best place for the others to break it apart. He’d moved with odd calm even though now, at least, Amanda could tell he was anything but. 

“C’mere.” 

“Huh?” 

Martin waited with unusual patience. Amanda approached him, a little confused. He tapped the wall. “Smell it.” 

“Are you high right now?” 

“You smelled that stink on me the other day. You dreamed it. You know it as well as I do. Is it here? Is it the same?” 

Amanda scoffed. “You don’t need me for this. You’re the best at this.” 

“Trust me.” 

Giving Martin one hell of a confused look, Amanda sniffed at the wall. There was – something. “It’s not the same. Not quite. Like, it’s still gross but I don’t want to puke or anything.” 

“That’s what I thought. What’s it remind you of?” 

Amanda inhaled again, closing her eyes to concentrate. “Fast food?” 

“Like French fries, maybe?” 

“Holy shit.” Amanda turned to stare at Martin. “Why does the wall smell like French fries?” 

Martin grinned a feral grin and gave Amanda a hammer. “Let’s find out.” 

Holding the hammer in her hands, Amanda sized up the wall in front of her. Ever the psychic vampiric gentleman, Martin waited close by, swinging his crowbar eagerly. Loud music thumped through the room in an effort to mask some of the possible noise. 

Amanda pulled up the dust mask and swung the hammer into the drywall. It crumbled in a spray of powder and chunks and Amanda let out a yell. She swung again and Martin shouted his encouragement, quickly joining her to destroy the drywall entirely. 

The drywall didn’t stand a chance. The pair reduced it to rubble disappointingly quickly and Amanda pulled Martin back from continuing the destruction. Her heart raced and she felt full to bursting with energy. Staring at the exposed beams and lack of insulation, Amanda paused. She pulled down the mask. 

“What is that?” Amanda got closer. 

Martin had a very bad feeling that lay heavy and sour in his mouth. He growled. “That’s a door.” 

“To where? This is a below ground basement.” 

It was definitely a door. Padlocks and bolts had been installed over the frame, preventing access from the other side. 

Amanda pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled. “Estevez, did you guys have to do anything to the basement before we moved in?” 

“Hello to you too, Ms Brotzman. No, the basement was empty when the O’Reillys were killed.” 

“Ok. I’m just gonna send you a picture real quick.” Amanda snapped a shot of the overly locked door and sent it. “This was behind some drywall in the basement. I’m not touching those locks with a ten foot crowbar.” 

“Where do you think it goes?” Estevez asked slowly. 

Amanda snorted. “No place I want to know about. If the last people did this – locked the shit out of this door and then built a _literal wall_ over it – it really looks like they were trying to keep something out. I just hope it holds up.” 

“I’ll get a team to you straight away.” 

“No.” Amanda refused. She was trying to think fast but having a bunch of cops, even cops in disguise, crawling all over the place felt like the worst idea ever. “It’s after lunch on a Friday, what kind of emergency tradespeople can we possibly explain away? Leave it til Monday. I’m sure these locks will hold til then.” 

Estevez sighed down the phone. He really wasn’t sure the sighing could convey the absolute end of his patience but he tried anyway. “Fine. Monday. Don’t touch anything.” 

“Wasn’t gonna. Bye!” Amanda hung up. 

Martin glanced at the locked door and back to Amanda. “What was that about?” 

“It felt like a bad idea to have people down here. I don’t know why.” 

Martin scowled. “This is definitely you bein’ pushed.” 

“I can smell it again. That rank stink from the other day but there’s still French fries. What is it!” Amanda glared at the door. 

“What do we know about what happened to the folks that died here?” 

Amanda sat on the bottom stair and continued glaring at the door. “Uh, they died horrifically? Arterial spray was definitely mentioned.” 

“In the living room, right?” Martin sat beside her. 

“Yeah.” 

“Whoever, whatever, did it, could’ve come up through that door.” 

“Except that the door was locked to hell and had a wall built over it.” Amanda reminded him. 

“Right. So maybe it was someone who knew about the secret door? The victims can’t have been too innocent if they had a creepy hidden door in the basement.” 

“Ok. So let’s assume the victims were shady and that shadiness got them killed.” Amanda frowned. “The door has to be connected. But what is it literally connected to? Doors just don’t go to nowhere.” 

Martin raised his eyebrows quite high. “You wanna open that thing?” 

“Not even a bit. It’s – scary.” 

“Listen to that. Whatever is tellin’ you to stay away from that thing, make sure you listen to it.” Martin glanced at the door. “It’s bad news.” 

Amanda nodded. “It has to be a neighbour. Think about it; that door could only go to someone’s house. Someone nearby. Maybe across the street? It smells the same.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Watching a heap of crime TV is finally paying off.” Amanda grinned. “We need to know more about whoever lives across the street.” 

Martin sighed. “The barbeque on Saturday is going to be our best bet.” 

“And how much of your soul did you just sell to utter that sentence?” 

“Ain’t none left to sell.” Martin said easily. “When did we decide to become investigators?” 

“Right about when a rope around my arm dragged me down here in a dream.” 

Martin just smiled. 

“Besides, we’re involved anyway. Maybe it’s for a reason. Maybe we’re the best way for the cops to figure out what happened to those poor people.” Amanda shuddered. “I’m just glad they weren’t killed in the bedroom. That place is creepy enough as it is.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Saturday morning, criminally early_

The sound of flapping wings filled Amanda’s ears. She imagined she could feel beating wings against her skin but the world was dark and she couldn’t see anything at all. It was more than disturbing to sense the presence of so much activity without being able to see it. Amanda reached out to try and touch one, maybe catch one. They kept fighting their way out of her grip and she leaned forward to try again. There was a moment of complete, terrifying weightlessness, like after the crest of a rollercoaster, and Amanda opened her mouth to scream – 

Only to have something hit her like a train and knock the breath from her lungs. Opening her eyes Amanda saw the world spinning by her and squeaked in alarm. It took a second to register the warmth at her back was a body trying to shield her from the fall. The free-fall finally stopped, a ringed hand gripping the banister of the stairs to hold them steady. 

“You tryin’ to kill me?” Martin asked, a little out of breath. 

Amanda looked down and saw his arm tightly wrapped around her middle. She leaned back into him, relieved, and put her hands on the arm around her. “Am _I_ trying to kill me?” They were almost at the bottom of the main staircase and Amanda felt her heart trying to escape her chest. 

“By the way you just took a nose dive down the stairs I wouldn’t be surprised.” Martin briefly rested his head against Amanda’s before turning her around to face him. “What was it this time?” 

“Birds. Again. They were everywhere but it was dark. I wanted to catch one.” 

“Do I gotta tie you down to make sure you ain’t gonna kill yourself in the middle of the damn night?” 

Amanda found the energy to smile. “That would require a lot of conversations about consent and boundaries.” 

For the first time in – ever – Martin looked uncomfortable. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Relax, it was a joke. Mostly. Thanks for stopping me from breaking my neck.” Amanda closed her eyes and sighed. “Wait. Can you smell that?” 

Martin growled. “That damn stink, _again_.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Amanda crinkled her nose, “ugh I feel sick.” 

“C’mon, shower. Now.” Martin dragged Amanda up the stairs and turned the water on. The tacky feeling in his mouth would turn into nausea any second and then he’d be useless for them both. 

Barely waiting for the temperature to be lukewarm Martin walked into the huge shower and dragged Amanda with him. The falling water washed the unearthly stench away quickly. 

“It can’t be real,” Amanda said tiredly. She turned the water up a little warmer and rinsed her hair out. 

“Your dream?” Martin looked at her, almost as tired as she was. “You don’t say.” 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I mean, the smell. I wonder if, like, regular people can smell it? Or if it’s just us? It only shows up when weird shit is happening. The house, the door, whatever the hell my dream was.” 

“You’re probably right.” Martin moved to stand under the water and felt the warmth seep through his hair. He sighed. “So whatever it is, is tryin’ to get in your head while you’re sleepin’. That ain’t fucked up at all.” 

“Why me? Why not you?” 

Martin shrugged. “There ain’t a lot of spare room in there. I already got an extra three people pokin’ around, I reckon they’re doin’ a good job of keepin’ anythin’ else out.” 

“Shit.” Amanda squeezed water out of her hair and looked down at her sodden pyjamas – and her very wet shirt stuck to her skin. She hurriedly turned around and left the shower. 

“What’s wrong?” Martin caught an unfamiliar emotion from her and frowned. 

“Nothing.” 

“Somethin’s up. Why are you lyin’ to me?” 

Amanda had a towel around her shoulders when she finally looked back at Martin. “I’m just mortified, it’s no big deal.” 

Still looking at her in that very direct way of his, Martin shut off the water and leaned against the edge of the shower glass, dripping. 

Deliberately maintaining eye contact Amanda tried to smile. “I look like I lost a wet tee shirt competition. It’s embarrassing. That’s all.” 

“After everythin’ we’ve been through you’re worried about a wet shirt?” Martin smiled. “I’ve seen you puke on your own shoes. You’ve seen _me_ just about set myself on fire when I fell asleep smokin’.” 

“You passed out with a bottle of tequila in your hand and a cigarette in your mouth.” Amanda laughed. “That was pretty funny.” 

“Fell asleep, passed out,” Martin shrugged and picked up his own towel. “Whatever.” 

Amanda yawned and looked around the bathroom door to the security system. “It’s almost dawn. I’m not sure that I want to keep sleeping.” 

“Me neither. Gimme a minute to get dry and I’ll get coffee.” 

“Deal.” Amanda grinned and went to the wardrobe to select another summery dress. She tried to ignore the memory of falling amongst flapping wings in the dark. “How did you stop me?” 

“Huh?” Martin stuck his head around the corner. Already his hair was drying in its distinctly upright arrangement. 

Amanda pulled the towel tightly around her but shivered anyway. “How did you stop me from falling?” 

“I’ve always been fast on my feet. I just grabbed you. Figured if I could get under you at least you’d land on me, not the stairs.” 

“Thanks. Again. God I can’t wait to be done with this place.” 

Martin grunted. “Can’t wait to get a solid night’s sleep without a single suicide attempt. The tallest thing to jump off of is the back ledge of the van.” 

“I could climb up onto the roof?” 

“Not if I pull the ladder off.” 

Amanda couldn’t keep from smiling. “Uh-huh. Is it my turn for the bathroom?” 

With a half-smile Martin exited the bathroom with the towel around his waist. He hurriedly dressed in as close to his own wardrobe as he could get. The jeans didn’t have holes and the black shirt was crisply ironed. Martin felt his lip curl up; he resisted the urge to crumple the expensive fabric. 

“Manda? What day is it?” 

“Mm, Saturday. Why?” 

“Do I have to wear a tie on Saturdays?” 

“Nope.” 

Martin smiled. “Good.” 

*

_Saturday evening_

Standing in the entryway of their little apartment, Todd patted his pockets. “Phone, wallet, keys,” he recited, “do I need anything else? Anything holistically detective-y?” 

Dirk shook his head. He’d been grinning all day long and it was starting to unnerve Todd. “Your gorgeous self is all that’s required, I’m sure of it. On to more important business: how do I look?” 

“Uh,” Todd felt that paper-dryness in his mouth again. Truthfully, Dirk was as beautiful as he’d ever been. Todd had talked him out of the tie ( _too formal for a casual dinner, Dirk, trust me_ ) but the button down shirt fit Dirk like a stylish glove. The slightly open collar under the trim suit jacket was such a delightfully unusual sight that Todd had to fight not to stare. “You look fine.” 

Dirk pouted. “That’s it? Fine? That’s all I get from my pretend-partner? I think you’ll find the blue of the jacket check pattern matches my eyes _precisely_ and these trousers were sewn by a master tailor.” 

Put totally on the spot, Todd panicked. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” His face went an excruciatingly bright red. 

“Thank you Todd that’s very kind.” Dirk smiled warmly. “I’ve always liked that shirt with that jacket, have I mentioned it before?” He neatened Todd’s lapels brusquely. 

Todd wanted to stay there forever with Dirk fussing over him and his jacket, while at the same time wishing he was on the bottom of the ocean. Todd felt his face cooking as he stood under Dirk’s full attention. The cherry on the sundae was Dirk softly brushing Todd’s wayward hair away from his face. 

“There,” Dirk said quietly, Todd’s hair finally arranged to his satisfaction. “Perfect.” 

For a dizzying moment Todd felt like he was a teenager again; the proximity of Dirk made his heart pound. Dirk was close enough to – 

“Shall we?” Dirk sprung out of the apartment. 

Todd attempted to gather his very rattled thoughts and followed. It was going to be embarrassingly easy to pretend to be in love with that string bean of a man. 

*

Their commitment to the undercover op saw Amanda and Martin standing in the hallway of their pretend house, preparing for the evening ahead. 

“We went to the same college but not at the same time and we met at an alumni mixer. We’ve been married for just over a year and we’re here in suburban hell to start a family.” Amanda recited. “Are you ready?” 

“Just one question. Do married people hold hands?” 

Amanda laughed. “I guess so? I mean, if you were my boyfriend I’d want to hold your hand, so.” She shrugged and cautiously took his hand in hers. Their fingers easily laced together. “You ready now?” 

Martin nodded and squeezed her hand gently. They headed for the neighbours’. 

The yard at number thirty-two was beautifully landscaped and held half a dozen people. Gary stood around the new cooktop with a couple of other men around his age, prodding cooking meat in a vaguely useless way. Brooke, Lila and a woman Amanda didn’t recognise sat at a table full of salads and crockery with a giant punch bowl as a centrepiece. 

“Oh hello!” Brooke called out when she saw them. She stood to greet them. “How are you both?” 

“Fine, thank you,” Amanda smiled. Martin gripped her hand tightly. 

“I’m so glad you could make it. Come meet everyone!” Brooke waved them over. “This is Lila and that’s her husband Artie from number twenty-seven, and this is Stacy and that’s her husband Bill. Bill works with Gary but we’ve all been friends for years. Everyone, this is Mark and Mandy from number thirty.” 

Martin and Amanda smiled politely and Amanda handed over the surviving chocolate box. “I’m sorry we couldn’t bring anything nicer, we’re still unpacking and everything seems to be at the bottom of a box.” 

“Moving is certainly awful,” Brooke agreed. “Can I get you two a drink?” 

“That’d be great,” Martin said, holding his smile in place. 

Brooke got a beer out of the small fridge and handed it to Martin. “Punch for you, Mandy, or should you be sticking with water?” Brooke asked conspiratorially. 

Amanda laughed politely. “Punch is fine, thanks, we’re not there just yet.” 

“Come sit, Mandy, and tell us about yourself.” Brooke sat back down and poured a huge glass for Amanda. 

“Mark, you strike me as the kind of guy who likes a well-done steak,” Gary said with a smile, welcoming Martin into the beer-swilling, meat-turning group. With one last squeeze Martin let go of Amanda’s hand to join them. 

“It’s great to see you again, Mandy,” Lila smiled, “how are you liking the neighbourhood?” 

Amanda sipped the surprisingly potent punch. “So far, I love it.” She couldn’t remember telling a bigger lie in all her life. “It’s so peaceful here.” 

“It sure is. I think you and Mark will fit right in.” Brooke said warmly. “How long have you been married?” 

“Just over a year, and we dated for a couple years before that.” Amanda looked at him and smiled. 

“How did you two meet?” Stacy asked, casting a glance at the clearly older Martin. 

“We went to the same college but a few years apart, and met at one of the alumni mixers for law grads. It was love at first sight.” Amanda thought back to the first time she actually saw Martin. He’d been driving the van that she climbed into on a whim and was surrounded by curling smoke. Their first conversation was trading a series of insults. She smiled. 

“You’re a lawyer?” Stacy was clearly surprised. 

Amanda blinked, returning to the moment. “I was, but we decided that I should take a break from work to get ready for expanding our family.” 

Immediately they all started cooing and discussing babies and children and fool proof methods that would guarantee conception. Amanda let the noise surround her, laughing in the right spots and pretending to be shocked by some of the advice. The anecdotes started and the punch kept coming. Amanda began to doubt that she could outdrink a bunch of suburban housewives. 

Martin watched Amanda play to her crowd and envied her that ease. 

“How’s she doing after that phone call?” Gary asked, seeing the way Mark watched his young wife. “I gotta tell you, I’m not sure I’d be as relaxed as you about it.” 

Artie and Bill looked to Martin who, to his credit, didn’t make any vaguely animalistic noises in response. “Occasionally, my wife and I receive threatening phone calls. They always upset her. I’m a criminal lawyer.” Martin explained and rubbed his nose; the barbeque smoke was making him itch. 

“Can’t the police do anything about it?” One of them asked. 

Martin shrugged. “They’re always anonymous. It’s never amounted to anything except upsetting my wife.” 

“We can’t have that!” Bill tried to joke. “Have you been married long?” 

“Just over a year,” Martin recited. He glanced at Amanda again. “We met at a college alumni mixer. She always says it was love at first sight but I was a bit slow to catch on.” 

“Ain’t that always the way,” Gary laughed, “Brooke says she accidentally bumped into me every morning at college for six months before I took the hint.” Artie and Bill chuckled and Martin tried to imitate them. 

Eventually the meat was declared ready and the men sat down at the table. Amanda finally noticed two vacant place settings; she looked to Brooke to ask about it and saw familiar faces walking down the driveway. 

“Todd, hi!” Gary called out. “You’re just in time.” He got to his feet and passed the newcomers a beer each. “Everyone, this is Todd, the new guy at the branch. This must be your partner?” 

“That’s me! I’m Dirk. It’s so lovely to meet you.” Dirk grinned. 

Gary introduced the others around the table, “our neighbours Lila and her husband Artie, Stacy, Bill’s lovely wife, and our brand new neighbours Mandy and her husband Mark.” 

Todd tried not to stare at his sister and the leader of the Rowdy Three playing house at a barbeque. They had on wedding rings and everything. “It’s great to meet you all. Sorry we’re late. New guys get the worst shifts, right?” Todd laughed a little and sat with his beer. 

After an initial moment of reflexive terror Dirk recovered, and did his level best to almost ignore Amanda and Martin at the table. “We brought some wine.” He left the offered bottle on the table and looked around, smiling. 

The meal passed without incident. Todd tried not to watch his sister too closely; not only was he utterly surprised to see her but the way she fit in was a little unnerving. Amanda had the smile down, the right manners, she laughed at the awful jokes and seemed to actually be enjoying herself. Martin was as quiet as ever but he took his cues from Amanda, sort of smiling when she did, and he definitely looked at her like a doting husband. 

“So you guys are new to the area?” Todd asked Amanda and Martin brightly. 

“Uh, yeah. We moved for Mark’s work. We’ve only been here a week or so.” Amanda explained, trying not to stare at her brother. 

“You guys were lucky to get a place in such a great suburb,” Todd said appreciatively, “even renting an apartment around here is super competitive.” 

“We had a really fantastic agent.” Amanda smiled and saw an opening. “She did mention that we got a good deal on the place though, something about a rushed sale?” 

A pall fell over the table. 

“What?” Amanda looked around, feigning mild concern. 

Brooke looked a little uncomfortable. “There was – an incident – with the previous owners.” 

Amanda gasped. “Oh my god, what happened?” 

“No one really knows,” Lila said. “They kept to themselves a lot, kept odd hours. One day the police showed up and then some vans and then a cleaning crew.” She trailed off. 

“That would explain the new carpets,” Amanda tried to smile. She turned to Martin. “Honey, did we buy a haunted house?” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing like that.” Brooke said with a smile. 

“The police did ask us a lot of questions about them, but honestly, we knew less about them then we do about you!” Gary laughed, raising his beer to Amanda and Martin. 

“Like number twenty-nine?” Amanda asked easily, smiling along with the rest of them. “The neighbourhood security paid them a visit the other night.” 

“They’re definitely an interesting pair,” Brooke said knowingly. 

Lila nodded. “I was so worried when Pumpkin – our dog – ran into their yard. Thanks again for getting him back for me.” She smiled at Martin. 

“ _You_ rescued a _dog?_ ” Dirk asked immediately. He stared. 

Martin smiled and tried not to look too predatory. “I got a soft spot for small animals.” 

“You went into that yard?” Gary asked, surprised. “See anything weird?” 

Martin shook his head. “Took a minute to find him in the hedges, but nothin’ out of the ordinary.” 

Dirk followed the conversation with interest. He was careful not to look at Martin or Amanda for too long. “Neighbourhood security?” 

“The couple that live at twenty-nine, they’re downright secretive.” Lila asserted. 

Her husband nodded. “You barely see them and there’s weird noises from the house sometimes. Someone called the neighbourhood security team on them the other night.” 

“What kind of noises? Is there some kind of secret barnyard or something?” Amanda tried to make a joke out of it. 

The neighbours went a little quiet. “It usually just sounds like fighting.” Brooke said eventually. “Sometimes there’s a sound like malfunctioning machinery, but that’s always really late at night.” 

Martin sneezed and coughed and Amanda looked at him oddly. “Are you? Are you getting _sick?_ ” 

“Allergies.” Martin said gruffly. He scratched at his nose with one hand and put the other arm around Amanda’s shoulders. His hackles were up; if they were anywhere but at a suburban dinner party, he’d be snarling. 

The conversation moved on around them and Amanda leaned in close to Martin. “You don’t have allergies.” She whispered. 

“There’s somethin’ on the air. It don’t smell right.” 

Amanda forced a smile to her face as she spoke. “What kind of not right?” 

“Old. Musty.” Martin tried to smile back. “Not right.” 

“You gonna be ok?” 

“Probably.” 

“Let me know?” Amanda put her hand on his cheek, telling herself she was just keeping up the married-life pretence. She sensed his jumpiness and had to dial it down before anyone else picked up on it and touch worked better than words. 

Martin relaxed and leaned into her hand with a smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. 

Across the table Todd was really doing his best not to look too horrified. No one could act that well, could they? 

“And then,” Dirk laughed, resting an affectionate hand on Todd’s, “I fell into the pond, head first! And in my best jacket!” 

Lila and Artie laughed and Todd felt his mouth curving into a smile. “Which version is this?” Todd asked under his breath. 

“The one where you heroically rescued me from those terrifying geese _and_ managed to save the day!” 

Todd gave Dirk a slightly panicked look. 

“The day being, of course, my favourite jacket.” Dirk amended quickly. 

“Smooth.” Todd smiled and unbeknownst to him it was one of Dirk’s favourite smiles; the one that was a little smug and a little exasperated and a little… something. 

In keeping with the mock-coupledom of the hour, Dirk squeezed Todd’s hand. “Once we dropped the jacket off at the cleaners it was quite a lovely day.” 

“You got hypothermia.” 

Dirk shrugged. “Not for very long.” 

“Sorry, everyone, but I think I’m going to have to call it a night,” Amanda said apologetically. “It’s been a busy week and I think that punch has gone straight to my head.” 

Todd had once seen Amanda win a keg stand competition. He tried not to look sceptical. 

“Should I get you home?” Martin asked, the picture of husbandly concern. 

“I think so. Thanks for a lovely dinner,” Amanda smiled at their hosts, “but I am just not going to last into the evening.” 

“It was no trouble,” Brooke smiled. “You get some rest! We’ll see you folks soon I’m sure.” 

They bade their farewells and Martin even made some pretence at helping Amanda walk home, holding her around the waist and moving slowly. 

“I feel sick,” Amanda mumbled as they went up the stairs to their porch. 

“What kind of sick?” Martin coughed. “Wait, who’s holdin’ who up?” He fumbled with the keys in the door. 

“I can’t tell. My head feels like it’s on fire.” Amanda kept it together until they were inside. She lurched to the kitchen, her hands pressed to either side of her head. Martin followed, still sneezing and coughing. “Are you sick?” 

“We don’t get sick.” Martin coughed some more. 

“You sound like you’re getting the flu.” 

“We don’t. Get. Sick.” Martin growled. His head felt foggy. Thinking of the boys brought fleeting moments of clarity and he concentrated on them. Cross, Gripps and Vogel occupied self-contained pockets in his mind and Martin held onto them tightly. Their bubbling energy burned away the brain fog and left Martin feeling almost normal again. “Shit.” 

Squinting at him, Amanda sighed. “It’s a weird thing, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah but I can’t smell anythin’.” Martin leaned into Amanda. “It ain’t on you. Why are you sick?” 

“I’ve been drinking alcoholic sugar water for a couple hours with a bunch of closet alcoholics while _you_ got to have nice, simple beer. How about next time you go round for round with Brooke and see how you go?” Amanda drank a glass of water quickly. “I need a shower. I feel sticky.” She headed for the stairs, gripping the banister tightly. Martin followed. 

Amanda ran a cool shower and scrubbed her teeth. She kept burping syrupy punch. Dressing in a fresh set of pyjamas and eating an assortment of pain pills, Amanda hoped she’d feel human again soon. 

“Feeling better?” Martin was at the surveillance control panel and barely glanced at her when she emerged. 

“A little.” Amanda shrugged, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “What the hell were Todd and Dirk doing there?” 

“I thought maybe you knew?” 

Amanda scoffed. “No way. Estevez didn’t say a thing. That sneaky bastard.” 

A blip from the security system drew their attention. The camera over the back door showed a nervous Todd and Dirk on the step. 

“What the hell?” Amanda rushed by Martin in a cloud of delightful scent. She raced downstairs to let them in and locked the door. “What are you doing?” She hissed. 

“What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?” Todd replied just as heatedly. “There’s a killer out there!” 

“You think we don’t know that?” Amanda scoffed. “Estevez put us here to try and lure them out. We’re under surveillance and this whole house is guarded. Why are _you_ here?” 

“We’re working the case.” Dirk said defiantly. 

Martin prowled into the room, crowbar in hand. “What case?” 

Gulping back his fear, Dirk tried not to maintain eye contact. “One of the victims’ sisters hired us. The police weren’t getting anywhere.” 

Amanda glared. “Why do you think we’re here playing at suburbia? We fit the profile. This is the perfect trap.” 

Todd approached his sister. “Aren’t you scared? You’re sitting here waiting for someone to come and – to come and try to _kill you_.” 

“Jesus Todd,” Amanda rolled her eyes, “you really think anyone stands a chance against Martin and me?” 

Martin growled softly, still holding the crowbar. 

Dirk paled. 

“You should go, and you should stay the hell out of this,” Amanda warned them. “You guys can’t just holistically bluff your way through a murder investigation. That’s insane, even for you.” 

“We can’t turn down a case, that’s not how it works.” Todd reminded her. 

“Stay out of it.” Amanda repeated. 

“Only if you do.” 

Martin sighed. “We can’t.” 

“Huh?” 

Amanda looked at Martin and smirked. “It was this or jail. There was an incident with some explosives and a deputy commissioner’s prized vintage car.” She shrugged. 

“What?” 

“It doesn’t matter. Get out of here and please, don’t come back.” 

Todd looked at his sister helplessly. It was the longest conversation they’d had since he’d told Amanda the truth and he was both ecstatic and bitterly disappointed by it. “It’s not safe, Amanda. You’re in real danger here.” 

Amanda scowled. “I fight better than you ever did, big brother. Besides, I have him.” She glanced at Martin with a knowing smile. “We’re fine. You need to go.” 

“Come on, Todd,” Dirk said quietly, looking from Amanda to Martin and back again, “we should go.” 

“Stay gone. Please.” Amanda opened the kitchen door. She caught Dirk’s eye as they went past her; he looked scared. With a sigh Amanda locked the door again and leaned against it. 

Martin gave Amanda a long look. “Why’d you kick them out? Maybe Icarus knows somethin’.” 

“After everything that’s happened to us over the last few days? I don’t want them to get hurt. They’re not as tough as we are.” 

“Somethin’ tried to get in my head again while we were at dinner.” 

“Wait, what? Are you ok?” Amanda immediately approached Martin, checking him over without touching him. “I can’t smell anything, are you sure? What happened?” 

Martin smiled a little. “It was more subtle than before. I told you once that the boys are in my head. I think that helps kick it out.” 

“Oh my god, seriously?” Amanda stepped back. Her eyes were wide. “So you’re ok? How do I know it’s really you in there?” 

“The night I ‘fell asleep’ smoking, I singed my beard and it took two weeks to grow back properly.” 

Amanda laughed hugely. “Oh that was awesome.” 

Taking a moment to enjoy Amanda’s amusement, Martin stared. It wasn’t just her bad moods, or attacks, that he could sense around her like psychic perfume. Amanda’s happiness and enthusiasm was like sweet sugar in his nose, better than the pink shower lotion she apparently loved. He could drown in that sweetness and die happy. The shock of the realisation hit him like a train and he almost staggered. 

Amanda yawned. “I don’t think we got anything more out of tonight.” 

Martin forced his thoughts back to the moment, pushing any notions of drowning in Amanda to the very back of his mind. After a moment he blinked. “How closely did the cops look into the neighbours across the street?” 

“Let’s ask. I left my phone upstairs, come on.” Amanda led the way back to their bedroom to call Estevez. Martin locked the door and set the security system while they waited for the cop to pick up. 

“Do you know what time it is?” Estevez demanded. 

Amanda snorted. “Like you have something better to do?” 

“How do you know I don’t have a life?” 

“We should FaceTime someday. Then you can see exactly how disbelieving my face is right now.” 

Estevez sighed. “What is it, Ms Brotzman?” 

“Did you look into the neighbours at number twenty-nine? When you were looking at the murder here, I mean.” 

Clicking computer keys could be heard down the phone. “They weren’t home.” 

Amanda put Estevez on speaker and gave Martin a look. “Weren’t home when?” 

“Ever, as far as we can tell. They didn’t respond to any of the neighbourhood canvases and there’s no connected phone line to the place.” 

“Seriously? And no one thought to check up on that?” 

“Sometimes people aren’t home, Ms Brotzman. That’s all there is to it.” Estevez said firmly. 

“Uh, ok, except for the noise complaint the other night, and the fact that the neighbours are pretty sure it’s not an abandoned building. There has to be a connection.” 

“Connection? To an empty house?” Estevez sighed. 

Martin glanced at Amanda before he spoke. “It ain’t empty. There’s somethin’ in there.” 

“Something?” Estevez asked sharply. “What kind of something?” 

With nodded encouragement from Amanda, Martin continued. “Somethin’ maybe like me.” 

“Not again, goddamnit!” Estevez thumped his desk. “Can you do anything?” 

“We don’t know.” Amanda answered. “Can you find out about the people who are supposed to live across the street? Anything and everything about them?” 

“What am I looking for, Ms Brotzman?” 

“I don’t know. Something. Something might stand out or like, might make sense once we hear it.” 

“Once you hear it?” 

Amanda smiled a little. “This isn’t an exact science, Estevez. Hopefully we’ll know it once we hear it.” 

Estevez sighed again. “Jesus Christ. I’ll let you know what I find.” He ended the call. 

“That went well,” Amanda said sarcastically. 

Martin took off his shirt and shoes, heading toward the bathroom. “Try not to kill yourself in the next few minutes, would ya?” He flashed a quick grin while loosening his belt. 

Amanda made a face at him and sat in front of the security system. She smiled when he went into the bathroom proper and mostly closed the door. After a few minutes Martin emerged with a towel around his waist. 

“I don’t s’pose there’s a spare pair of shorts someplace? Mine are still wet.” 

“Does that mean you secretly like them?” Amanda teased. 

“They might be more comfortable than jeans.” Martin wasn’t about to admit that he liked the evil gleam he saw in Amanda’s eyes whenever he had them on. She grinned and held a second dry pair aloft. Ducking back into the bathroom Martin returned in the equally tiny pants. He stood by her to check over the security screens, one hand propped on the back of the chair Amanda sat in. 

Slowly Amanda’s gaze drifted to Martin’s arm and up to his shoulders. The faint pattern of scars glinted in the light and she reached out to brush her fingertips across his skin. Amanda had expected the lines to be raised like braille but they were deceptively smooth. She felt him shiver as her fingers traced up his forearm. 

Martin looked at her, more than a bit confused. “What’re you doin’ drummer girl?” 

“What are these?” Amanda gently rubbed her thumb along a particularly wide scar as she spoke. “They’re everywhere.” 

“I thought you didn’t like hurtin’ me.” 

Amanda looked at him closely. “You’re not hurting. You’re,” she searched, “confused. A little sad, maybe.” 

“How do you know that?” 

Amanda shrugged. She stared at the scars. “I just do.” 

“They’re part of what I wanted to forget.” Martin carefully captured Amanda’s hand in his own to halt her exploration. “Blackwing smells like old blood. A lot of that smell memory is because the blood was mine. They cut bits out of me for testing. Hurt me to see if Gripps could feel it. Did the same again with Cross. Eventually they hurt us coz they liked it.” Martin growled. “Some was payback. We hurt ‘em good. More’n once.” 

“Good.” Amanda’s eyes were dark. 

Standing before Amanda, holding her hand in his and dressed only in thin shorts, Martin felt his grip on the world slipping. “I gotta ask, Manda,” he cleared his throat. “Your pyjamas are ridiculous. _Mine_ are ridiculous. I’ve never worn shorts in my adult life and if you tell the boys about it I’ll deny everythin’. And then you sit there lookin’ at me like I don’t even know what.” Martin sighed. “We don’t gotta be this deep undercover.” 

“It’s not about being undercover.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The way I look at you has nothing to do with any of this.” Amanda stood up and made sure she was toe to toe with Martin. “I thought that if this went badly I’d have my answer and I’d never think about it again. But it hasn’t. Gone badly, I mean. It’s been fun pretending here with you – even with the weird murder-y death stuff – and I don’t want to pretend anymore.” 

“I ain’t movin’ to the suburbs.” 

“That’s not what I meant. No one wants to live here, not even the neighbours.” 

“Then what are you talking about?” 

Amanda stared at him. “You can’t be that oblivious.” 

Martin looked away. “The way everyone looked at us, wonderin’ what someone as beautiful as you is doin’ married to a guy like me,” he looked down at their fake wedding rings, “I’m askin’ the same question.” 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

“I know you are.” 

“Well, to answer your question,” Amanda said slowly, “if, hypothetically speaking, I was to be with a guy like you, it would be because of a connection we had, like the way we understood each other and made each other laugh.” 

Martin looked at her. 

“If you tell me there’s nothing here then that’s it, we’ll call it a day and just go on like nothing ever happened.” Amanda tried. 

“I don’t know what’s here.” Martin said quietly. “I missed so much normal shit in Blackwing. I don’t know how to be anythin’ for you.” 

“You could just be yourself? It’s worked so far.” Amanda hinted. 

“What if it’s not enough?” 

Amanda felt his trepidation and found it incredibly endearing. She smiled. “You’re already everything I want.” Giving up on words Amanda let go of Martin’s hand to put her arms around his neck. 

Martin finally smiled a little and put his hands on her waist. His grin got wider when Amanda leaned in close to kiss him. Martin went still; her lips were so soft and she was beautifully warm and real in his arms. The kiss deepened and Martin forgot to think as Amanda clung to him hungrily. He pushed her against the edge of the table, his skin burning wherever they touched, quickly becoming desperate for _more_. The scent of Amanda in his nose was pure pink lust, wrapping around Martin’s brain and squeezing all sense out of him. Martin absolutely didn’t need any encouragement; he’d been trying to ignore how he felt for too long. He wanted to give in to her and started to let his psychic defences down. 

Amanda gasped against his mouth and bit his lip, pulling away to look at him with absolutely smouldering eyes. She’d felt something change but couldn’t tell what, or how she even knew it. Martin pulled her into him and buried his face in her shoulder, kissing and biting Amanda to make her gasp. She gripped Martin’s short hair in one hand as her knees quivered. 

At that precise moment, the alarm sounded. 

“If that’s Todd again I’m gonna kill him myself,” Amanda panted slightly. She looked over her shoulder at the screens, her hand still in Martin’s hair and his mouth definitely still on her neck. 

It wasn’t Todd.


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh shit!” 

Amanda’s spark of fear was more effective than a bucket of ice water. Immediately Martin pulled away and checked the screens. The camera above the basement door showed two figures all in black sneaking out of the basement. 

“What the fuck.” Amanda whispered. 

“Call Estevez.” Martin planted a swift kiss to Amanda’s lips and moved quickly to pull on jeans and boots. He scowled at the monitors. 

Amanda was already dialling. “We’re not supposed to engage, remember?” 

“I’m not gonna face whatever that is in a pair of fuckin’ shorts.” Martin said with just a hint of a smile. 

Amanda blushed. “Estevez. It’s not a bird. You’re on speaker.” 

“We’ve got the feed up,” Estevez said, his voice tight. “We got cars coming to you right now. Stay put. _Do not_ leave that room.” 

“Like hell.” Martin growled. 

“I mean it!” Estevez shouted. “Do not move!” 

Amanda looked at Martin, her eyes wide. “Guard the door.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t want to get blood on my pyjamas.” Amanda pushed Martin toward the wardrobe door before turning around and taking her shirt off. 

“Do not engage! I repeat, _do not engage!_ ” Estevez bellowed down the line. 

“Keep your pants on,” Amanda said in a voice far calmer than she felt, “I’m just getting prepared. They’re coming up to the second floor.” 

“I can see.” 

“If they got through the basement door,” Amanda gulped, hastily dressing in jeans, a tee and battered boots, “then I don’t think the bedroom door is going to put up much of a fight.” 

“They’ve got weapons,” Estevez said quietly, “we’re comin’, we’re less than ten minutes out. Just hold ‘em off til we get there.” 

Amanda grinned, finally feeling the buzz of an impending bout of destruction. “We’ll do more than hold them off.” 

“Keep me on the line.” 

“Hey,” Amanda paused and considered why Estevez might be so worried. “We’re prepared. We’re ready. Martin and me?” She picked up the phone and a handy baseball bat to stand in the wardrobe doorway. Meeting Martin’s eyes, Amanda grinned. “We ain’t normal. We ain’t vulnerable like normal people. We’re gonna be just fine, I promise.” 

“They’re outside the bedroom door.” 

If Amanda didn’t know any better she would have thought Estevez sounded afraid. Amanda put her phone in her jeans pocket to better grip the baseball bat. She swung it in a wide circle, her nerves fizzing with more than usual pre-fight energy. Martin was pacing in front of the door, firmly placing himself between her and the threat. He growled. 

Machinery started up right outside the bedroom door. 

“Is that a?” Amanda quit talking when the tip of a chainsaw broke through the hardwood door. “Oh shit!” 

Martin howled as the assailants broke down the door and climbed over the wreckage. He lunged forward and hit the still-whirring chainsaw with his crowbar, knocking it out of the attacker’s hands. Slamming the crowbar’s hook under the jaw of the first attacker, Martin forced him back through the door and into the hall. 

The second attacker ducked around Martin and went straight for Amanda; she easily smashed the baseball bat into their ribs to wind them completely. They staggered and clutched at their side. Amanda followed through with another swing of the bat, this time aiming for their shoulder. She heard something crack and the attacker fell to their knees. Dancing behind them Amanda aimed one last blow at the back of their shoulders and shouted triumphantly when they fell. They didn’t get up. 

Behind her Martin had climbed through the broken door to finish off the attacker in the hall. Amanda ran to him, grinning hugely, only to see Martin toying with the stranger like a cat with a mouse. Seeing Amanda join in the attacker tried to turn and run; Martin flung the crowbar at their feet and tripped them. Amanda whistled and tossed her bat to Martin. He caught it without missing a beat and loped toward the attacker, kicking them in the guts and forcing them to roll onto their back. Standing over them Martin held the baseball bat like a golf club, lining up his shot as if the attacker’s head was the ball. 

“How did you get in?” Amanda asked. She picked up the crowbar to stand by Martin. “Who are you?” 

The stranger stared at her, panting. One eye was black and blood trickled out of his mouth. “We are to be feared, we walk the dark, we are _hungry-_ ” 

Martin cut him off with a quick kick to the guts. 

“Did his voice echo a bit or was that just me?” Amanda asked quietly. 

“We are mighty, we are terrifying, we instil fear in all hearts-” 

Rolling her eyes Amanda lined up one hell of a crotch shot and waited for the attacker to notice. “Whatever plural shit you have going on, _this particular junk_ is gonna hurt if I kick it. Quit your bullshit and tell me who you are.” 

The stranger went quiet. 

Martin leaned over them and sniffed. He snarled. “It’s that smell again.” 

As soon as Martin mentioned it, Amanda noticed the foul stink coming from the attacker. 

“What smell?” Estevez yelled. 

“Oh shit,” Amanda guiltily glanced at her pocket, “sorry dude, totally forgot about the phone. It’s part of what Martin can do, there’s something weird about this.” 

“Wait, wait,” Estevez began, “can you get that guy’s face closer to the camera?” 

“Don’t touch him!” Amanda shouted. “It’ll get on you and we don’t have time for a shower.” 

Martin grinned. “I kicked ‘em out once, I can do it again.” He threw the bat to Amanda, growling happily when she caught it, and pulled the attacker to their feet. Martin shoved the bruised face into the camera above the bedroom door. 

“That looks like Brad Carmichael.” 

“Brad?” Martin repeated, looking at the guy’s bruised face. 

“We are the hunter-” 

“You’re Brad Carmichael, accountant, from Michigan,” Estevez said down the line. “You married Mary-Elizabeth Kensington, your college sweetheart, in 2007.” 

The attacker blinked rapidly. His eyes wouldn’t focus. “Mary-Elizabeth?” He said quietly. The echo in his voice was gone. 

“Mary-Elizabeth Kensington,” Amanda repeated, “your wife.” 

“My wife – _we are the hunter and the nightmare-_ ” 

Martin shook the man until he stopped speaking. A huge gust of wind blew up the stairwell and into the hall, bringing with it the strange fried food and musty room smell. 

“Oh god,” Amanda scrunched up her nose, “is it on me?” 

Martin dropped Brad to the ground, quickly pushing the presence out of his head before assessing Amanda. He got close to her to check. “Nah, you’re good.” Martin cupped her cheek in his hand and felt something click. 

Suddenly Amanda was in his head, right where she belonged. Martin felt her like he did the Rowdy boys as a whisper in the back of his mind, able to pick out thoughts and ideas if he looked close enough, but mostly just content to know that she was safe and happy and connected to him. Martin gaped. 

At his touch Amanda gasped. It was like coming down a rollercoaster while trying to drink shaken soda through her nose and everything was somehow purple and fast – but then it was done and that rush of feeling left something behind. _Martin_. He was there, like a daydream or a song she couldn’t stop singing, a little bubble of _him_ that fit like it was always there but just hadn’t bothered announcing itself until now. 

Amanda froze, staring at Martin with wide eyes. She burned with the need to touch him, to remember what skin to skin contact felt like after such an intense moment of potentially psychic connection; a hand on her cheek was not enough. Martin could just about hear her screaming for physical contact and he remembered the shock after his first bond formed, how badly he and Gripps had both needed that physical reassurance. 

Launching herself at him Amanda clung to Martin tightly, totally overwhelmed and more than a bit confused. “What the hell was that?” 

“You’re a real Rowdy now,” Martin said in a low voice. He held Amanda to him, trying to use the new connection to reassure her. Thinking calm thoughts was not at all easy to do so Martin didn’t bother; instead he went for the feeling of home and family and belonging. Martin could hear Gripps, Cross and Vogel responding from miles away, howling like lost wolves in a storm. Amanda needed them – _Martin_ needed them. He let the boys hear it and called to them. 

“What is going on-? The hell? _Shit!_ ” Estevez shouted down the line. His voice got distant. “Keep them there! Hold them – what do you mean _they broke the door?_ ” 

“The boys are comin’,” Martin said with unusual softness, “you’ll feel better when we’re all together.” 

“What?” Amanda whispered. 

“We ain’t meant to be apart.” 

Another gust of wind blew up the stairs, stronger than the one before. Brad lurched to his feet and stumbled away back toward the basement. Martin growled and Amanda felt her lip pull up in a snarl. 

Martin pulled Amanda’s phone from her pocket. “We gotta go. Don’t try and stop my Rowdy boys. They’re comin’.” 

“ _Do not hang-_ ” 

Martin ended the call. “C’mon. We gotta follow him.” 

“We gotta stop it.” Amanda nodded, her face still pressed against Martin’s bare chest. “Why do I sound like you? I _feel_ like you.” 

Martin laughed. “Shit gets blurred at first. We’ll get used to it, I promise.” 

“Blurred? You’re kiddin’.” Amanda pressed her lips together. “Jesus.” 

“Let’s go before it wears off. We’ll fight better with less between us.” 

“Please don’t talk about things between us right now.” Amanda almost begged. 

Martin felt the change from her, the initial confusion giving way to – _lust_. He growled. “I’m sorry. Try and, try to,” Martin sought to explain what he’d known instinctively for decades. How to explain the unique experience of pulling yourself _inward_ and trying to stay there? 

“Like clenchin’ a muscle,” Amanda said quietly. She tried it out, pulling herself back into her own skin and gently pushing the bubble of Martin to the back of her mind. It was like the world went a little quiet. Immediately Amanda hated the distance between them. She felt jittery. 

“How did you-?” 

“While you were thinking about _how do I explain it_ I figured it out. Kind of. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right.” 

“It won’t be for long,” Martin pulled away to look into her eyes, “I promise. C’mon.” 

Amanda grumbled but took Martin’s hand. “Fine. How far away are the boys?” 

“Can’t you tell?” 

“I’m afraid to look. I might not be able to get this under control again.” 

“They’re comin’. Til then?” Martin grinned. “Let’s get the monster.” 

“How do you know it’s a monster?” 

“We’re all monsters, drummer girl. Some of us just spend more time in the daylight than others.” 

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Amanda muttered as they headed for the basement. A steady, stinky breeze wafted up toward them. “What if that smell gets on me again?” 

Martin growled at the possibility. “If you let it, I’ve got a doorway into your head now. You let me in and I’ll keep anythin’ else out.” 

“Oh that’s weird.” 

“Like everythin’ else we do is normal?” 

Amanda snorted. “I’ve never shared my _head_ with anyone before.” 

They approached the basement door and Martin sighed. “I ain’t been alone in my head for I don’t know how long. Me and the boys were made to fit one another. I thought our family was done growin’ til we found you.” 

“Is there room in there? It sounds kind of crowded.” 

Martin gripped Amanda’s hand tightly. “You’re part of me. Have been since the first day we met.” 

Smiling, Amanda felt her control slip. She tried to pull everything back while wanting nothing more than to let go and really _feel_ the world around her. Another strong wind buffeted them and made Amanda’s eyes sting. 

Martin growled and stared into the dark basement. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

Predictably the light switch didn’t work. Martin and Amanda went down the basement stairs slowly. The weird smell filled the room with an almost physical presence and Martin sneezed. Amanda felt nauseous. 

“The way you’re holdin’ yourself together?” Martin began. “Try and push from the skin out. Breathe in, pull in, breathe out, push away.” 

Amanda practiced. It was like trying to exercise, clenching certain muscles for certain movements and trying to do a few unfamiliar things at once. “Still weird.” 

Martin snorted. “You’re doin’ fine.” 

The basement wasn’t as pitch-black as it should have been. Faint light peeked out from the smashed secret door, revealing a roughly hewn passageway. Its walls were bare stone that gleamed damply. Battery-powered fairy lights draped along the tunnel and provided soft, deceptively cheery light. 

“Why do the walls look wet?” Amanda asked quietly. 

“Don’t touch it.” 

“Wasn’t gonna.” Amanda shuddered. The smell pressed in against her and she concentrated. _In, pull in, out, push out._

Martin approached the tunnel. “I can’t tell what else is down there. Just that damn smell, it’s blockin’ everythin’ else.” 

“Let’s just assume it’s gonna be weird and dangerous.” 

“Are you gettin’ anythin’?” 

Amanda hesitated. “I feel like we need to be down there.” 

“Good enough for me.” Martin let go of her hand to get through the secret doorway. “Stay close.” 

For a searing, fleeting moment Amanda wanted to be very close to Martin indeed. The heat of her desire burned away the fog that had been steadily settling over her since they’d left their bedroom. Amanda gasped. 

Martin immediately stopped and turned to pull Amanda to him. 

“Something’s calling us down here.” Amanda whispered. The burning need for Martin kept her mind clear for long enough to _hear_ the beguiling call of the monster. 

“It thinks it can trap us?” Martin snarled. “Not a chance. Push out, Manda.” He closed his eyes concentrated on the bubble of her in his mind. The force of her emotions knocked the breath from his lungs and he staggered. “Use that heat to burn it out.” 

“I’ll burn this place down,” Amanda promised. The call changed and took on a hint of fear. “Let’s go, before it gets any more ideas.” 

Martin nodded and stepped away, once again taking the lead down the tunnel. Their footsteps echoed and the walls were definitely damp. The whole place smelled like mould and musty air. 

“Can you tell where we’re going?” Amanda asked quietly. She’d become disoriented incredibly quickly and Martin was the only certainty in the darkness. The twinkling fairy lights that barely fought the gloom added a whole new element of suburban creepy. 

Martin shook his head. “That smell is messin’ with me.” 

Following closely, Amanda tried to bury her uneasiness. It wasn’t proper fear; she was much too angry for that. Angry that something had clearly been hurting Brad and Mary-Elizabeth, and probably killed the O’Reillys, and was now keeping her and Martin oddly apart in their efforts to stay sane. Amanda was angry that her family had been separated for this stupid experiment and she wanted nothing more than to run and find the boys. 

“Hey,” Martin said quietly, reaching a hand out behind him, “burn it out.” 

Brushing her hand against his Amanda felt her desire ignite again. The fire in her head destroyed the subtle hold that something had tried to establish over her. “Now I’m _really_ pissed.” 

“Long as its for the right reasons,” Martin said with a smile. 

A sharp corner ahead had more steady light than the fairy lights could provide. Amanda felt anticipation rippling off Martin and gripped her crowbar tightly. 

Rounding the corner they found themselves in a well lit, clean, and totally empty room. Beige walls and carpet were unmarked and unremarkable. The only unusual thing was the smell, once again filling the room to the point that Amanda gagged. Furiously she pushed back against it yet again. 

“This is number twenty-nine,” Martin looked around. “I’ve been here before.” 

Amanda saw a single door with no other way out. The narrow windows were closed tight and she was relieved to see it was still night. 

_Who are you?_

Amanda spun around, looking quickly at all corners of the room. She couldn’t see anyone else and Martin looked at her oddly. 

_What are you?_

“Can you hear that?” Amanda asked. Her eyes were wide. 

“Hear what?” Martin frowned and swung his baseball bat. He couldn’t see or hear anything but Amanda’s fear unmistakeable. 

Amanda looked at the door that she assumed led out of the basement. “That way. Come on.” 

Not thrilled to be following but accepting that Amanda had all the information, Martin kept close as they left the basement. The door opened easily and they found another room without windows or ventilation; the stench hit them all over again like a punch to the face. There was a second door opposite them but nothing else marked the walls. 

Were it not for the unbelievable reek, they could have been in a child’s bedroom; it was painted blue with white clouds, and kites hung from the ceiling like mobiles. 

“Kites.” Amanda whispered, remembering the flash from her vision. 

“ _Who are you?_ ” The voice that had been in Amanda’s head now came from something outside. 

Amanda looked toward the bed and felt sick. The stink was coming from the person sitting there; it was thick and oily like old, rotten fried food, staining the walls and filling the air. She gagged again, fighting to push against the stink and the person apparently responsible for it. 

“Who are _you?_ ” Amanda returned with more than a bit of attitude. “And what did you do to Brad and Mary-Elizabeth?” 

The person, a man, shrugged. “What I had to.” 

“Had to?” Amanda couldn’t ask another question before Brad rushed into the room from the second door. 

Instinctively Amanda swung the crowbar into his stomach, making Brad spin into Martin and the baseball bat. Martin aimed for Brad’s knees and arms, carefully avoiding the face even as his blood boiled for vengeance. 

“Faster, Brad!” The man shouted, clearly excited by the events. “ _Faster_ , we are the hunters, we are the mighty, we will ruin and rule!” 

As the man spoke Brad’s lips moved and the creepy echo voice came out. Despite the cracks of Martin’s bat against Brad’s limbs he wouldn’t be slowed. Amanda yelled triumphantly as Martin dislocated Brad’s shoulder with a deft blow but her joy was short-lived. Brad didn’t slow down even with a completely useless arm. 

“I don’t wanna kill you,” Martin said quietly, “but I will if you don’t know when to quit.” 

Brad continued his useless attack, his lips still moving to the strange man’s words. 

“It’s you,” Amanda looked at the man on the bed, “you’re doing this to him. Why?” 

“We cannot be contained, we are the mighty, we are destined to dominate.” 

“You’re a weird dude locked in a basement, buddy. Calm down.” Amanda snorted. “Why are you locked in here?” 

“To keep us safe from the likes of you, you strange and broken thing, with your wings clipped and tied in, crawling when you should fly.” 

His words, oily as they were, struck a chord in Amanda. She paused. 

“You were yanked from the sky before you knew you could fly,” the man said, grinning, “doesn’t that make you angry?” 

“Everything makes me angry.” Amanda refuted. “If you’re so strong and tough why are you scared of little old me?” 

Martin laughed outright at that. Growing bored of the fight he pulled Brad into a chokehold, easily strangling the man until he lost consciousness. 

“Why are you scared?” Amanda repeated. She felt the change in the air and grinned. “You’re terrified of us. Why?” 

“That!” The man pointed at Martin. “Oh broken bird, don’t you know? That is not your salvation. That is your end. That one brings destruction and pain and misery. That one will cut what remains of your wings and you’ll never be free again.” 

Martin felt like he’d been punched. All of his worst fears came broiling to the surface and he retched. He’d never be good for Amanda, he knew that, and she was all kinds of too-good-for-him; those few precious moments that she’d been in his arms were nothing more than torturous dreams. All he would ever do is hurt her. Why she’d ever bothered to get into the van, to stay with them all this time, why she’d kissed him – it was all lies. Martin was a mess, a half-human broken wreck. The only things left to offer Amanda were his pieces of damaged soul and blood-stained memories and who in her right mind would want to be within a hundred miles of any of it. 

“Like hell!” Amanda shouted. “If being free means being alone, without my family – without the one I love – then I will gladly walk into that cage and lock the door.” Amanda smiled. “Besides, love isn’t a cage, you stupid thing.” 

“He’s right,” Martin choked out, “he’s right, I’ll only hurt you. I have nothin’ to give you and you deserve the world.” 

“I already told you, you’re everything I want.” Amanda frowned and reached out. 

Martin recoiled. “All I know is how to destroy. I can’t do that to you.” 

Staring, Amanda felt her heart freeze. The cloud of him in her mind was distant and she was too scared to let her guard down to get a closer look. Amanda remembered the seconds they’d spent in each others arms, remembered thinking _oh god yes_ before her body took over. She’d sworn Martin had felt the same. He’d certainly pressed against her and definitely kissed her back; remembering those moments ignited Amanda’s lust all over again and she grinned as it burned the presence away. 

“Just go,” Martin sank to his knees, “go.” 

“Oh please,” Amanda rolled her eyes and reached for Martin, putting a hand on his bare shoulder and smiling when they clicked again. The heat from their joined skin burned at the hold that had settled over Martin and destroyed it entirely. Feeling the bubbles of Amanda and the boys awaken in his mind, Martin roared. 

*

Sitting in their car, Todd and Dirk looked at each other apprehensively. 

“Did you hear that?” Todd whispered. 

“It sounded like,” Dirk gulped, “at Blackwing, when they’d hurt some of us.” He gulped again. “That sounded like the Rowdy Three.” 

Farah piped up from the backseat. “Wherever they are, Amanda’s close behind.” She checked her holstered weapons with nervous repetition. “You said that was their house?” 

Todd nodded. The only room with lights on was upstairs and to the side; he assumed it was the bedroom. 

“The noise did not come from there.” Farah eased the window down and listened, hard. Sure enough there was another yell. “There.” She pointed at the house directly opposite Martin and Amanda’s. “What’s in there?” 

Dirk scrambled for a hint or prompt from the universe. “Something? Something that stinks?” 

“That’s real helpful, Dirk,” Todd rolled his eyes. “Should we call the cops?” 

“No.” Farah said immediately. “Not yet. We wait.” 

Todd sputtered. “For what? Blood curdling screams across the neighbourhood?” 

“We wait.” Farah insisted. “Amanda can handle herself. The Rowdy Three can definitely handle themselves. We wait.” 

*

Martin stood between Amanda and the strange man, his chest heaving, the bat swinging in his hands. “You. You stay outta my head.” 

“And mine,” Amanda glared. “What are you?” 

The man smiled but his eyes were dead. It was strange; he looked so ordinary, white and square-jawed and clean-cut, like his name should have been Thackery Chaddington III and he taught English Lit at college. He opened his mouth and Amanda noted something was wrong with his teeth. 

“If you start about that ‘we are the night’ bullshit I’ll break your face.” Amanda warned. She aimed her crowbar toward him. “What are you?” 

“He’s mine.” Someone announced, somewhat apologetically. “Hank, you were supposed to take care of this.” 

“Your name is _Hank?_ ” Amanda laughed. 

“Our parents had such high hopes.” The newcomer chuckled softly and walked through the door properly. 

“Gary?” Amanda stared. “Your parents – this is your _brother?_ ” 

With a sigh, Gary nodded. “Blackwing was supposed to help him control his _abilities_ but as you can see, their methods left something to be desired.” 

“I almost had them Gary, he nearly let me finish him.” Hank looked at Martin hungrily. 

Martin snarled. “You? You were in Blackwing?” 

“He was.” Gary bristled. “I don’t remember you, though. Hank swears you were in there but I’d remember you.” Gary tapped the side of his head. “I’ve got an _excellent_ memory for faces.” 

The way Martin’s nose itched around Gary and the sickening stench that reminded him of Blackwing made sense. Martin went cold. “You never came into our cages. You were too scared. I could smell it. Your _fear_. Like sour piss through the walls. You reeked of it.” Martin made a point of inhaling deeply. “You still do.” 

Amanda’s heart thrilled to see Martin on the hunt and she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. The crowbar felt beautifully heavy in her hands and she paced; in her excitement she almost missed the way Gary shifted nervously. 

“Hank?” Gary very nearly kept the quiver from his voice. He smirked when a new whirlwind snapped through the strange room, making the kites on the ceiling flutter madly. 

Snarling, Martin tried to move through the gale. It was like walking against a solid wall; he howled his frustration as the wind pushed him backwards and into Amanda. She caught him, their joined flesh once again providing much needed clarity. 

“Martin! What do we do?” Amanda shouted over the noise. 

There wasn’t a single hint of doubt on Martin’s face. He glanced upward and tilted his head as if listening for something. A second later Amanda caught it: a whisper through the hurricane. She grinned. 

“Quickly, Hank! Hurry!” Gary shouted. He didn’t need to be even remotely psychic to be terrified of the look he saw between the pair. 

*

“Now?” Todd asked. “That does not look natural!” The wind seemed incredibly localised around Martin and Amanda’s neighbours. 

Farah paused, her instincts wavering. She opened her mouth to speak when she heard a rumbling sound approaching, fast. “What-?” 

The Rowdy van came screaming down the street heading straight for the house in question. It drove right up to the front door and _into_ it, smashing the front room of the house in an ear-splitting explosion. Farah watched, her mouth open just a little, as Vogel, Cross and Gripps leapt from the van in various stages of incoherent rage and swarmed into the house. 

“ _Now?_ ” Todd shouted. 

“Now! Stay behind me!” Farah rushed from the car, weapon drawn. Todd and Dirk hurried after her like lost goslings following an anxious but resolute goose. 

*

“Manda!” Vogel shouted as he flew into the room. “You shoulda seen the other guys!” 

“No wait, don’t-” Martin tried but there was no way he was fast enough. Vogel barrelled into Amanda and hugged her tight; the touch of his skin against hers meant a new bubble of someone else in her head. Amanda clung to Vogel as her attempt to hold herself _in_ gave out. 

Cross and Gripps followed, sensing Amanda needed something. As soon as their rough hands touched her exposed arms they howled, finding themselves in her head and she in theirs. Amanda moved in a tangled sea of limbs, needing all of them as near to her as possible. 

With her defences so utterly smashed apart Amanda felt beautifully, gloriously free. She grinned and howled with her boys for a perfect moment before she cut herself off with a strangled cry, dropping the crowbar to press her hands against her ears. 

“Manda!” Martin rushed to her, ready to eat a pararibulitis attack but was shocked to find her ears bleeding. 

“ _It’s in my head!_ ” Amanda shouted. She closed her eyes and screamed as bloody tears ran down her face. 

*

“It’s coming from the basement!” Todd shouted. “Where is it?” 

Dirk looked around frantically. “How did the Rowdy Three leave _no trail?_ ” 

They ran through the house looking for a door to the basement area. Every single one was locked. 

“Why does it always have to be weird?” Farah muttered. She chose the first one and kicked at the wood panelling. It gave way after a few attempts to reveal a closet. “Damnit!” 

Dirk and Todd couldn’t knock down a door to save themselves but tried anyway. “Why are they all locked!” Dirk cried. 

“Stand back!” Farah shot at the lock on another door and found a bedroom. “ _Shit!_ ” 

“Come on, come on!” Todd had moved on to the next one. “How many damn doors are there in here?” 

*

Amanda screamed again and Martin couldn’t get a grip on the bubble of her in his mind. He pressed his forehead to hers and inhaled, hoping to eat whatever was inside her head that didn’t belong. It was like a slug, slipping away from Martin’s grasp no matter how much he tried. 

“Listen quick, drummer girl,” Martin began, “only you can get rid of it.” 

“I can’t, it’s _everywhere_ and I can’t find you!” 

“I’m here. We’re all here.” Martin whistled sharply. “Boys!” 

The boys quickly surrounded them, protecting them from Hank’s attack, each of them with a careful hand on Amanda. 

“You gotta fight it, baby girl,” Martin begged, “you gotta burn that sucker out.” 

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand,” Amanda whimpered. “I can’t find you. I can’t find _me_. I’m everywhere and nowhere and I can’t find the edges. It’s in here and I can’t get a hold of _me_ to push it out. _It hurts_.” 

“Your edges are right here, right here,” Martin held Amanda’s face in his hands, “where you end and I begin. There’s your edge, Manda. Right here.” 

Amanda opened her eyes with a gasp. Her entire self was blown apart across the room, being torn apart by cyclonic winds, her head invaded by that stinking monster on the bed. 

The intensity of Martin’s bright blue eyes was the beginning of the anchor. “C’mon baby girl, c’mon,” Martin pleaded, “we got you, we’re right here. I’m right here.” 

Amanda stared. She fought against the invader, scrabbling to hold on to Martin and the boys as she felt the edge of herself come back into focus. It felt like a lifetime but was only a few seconds before Amanda found her centre again. As she rebuilt her being from the middle outwards she pulled in threads of Martin, Vogel, Gripps and Cross, before finally finding the edge – right at the point her forehead pressed against Martin’s. 

With a teary grin Amanda kissed Martin. Their lips touched for a fraction of a second before Amanda quite literally burst into flames. The flash almost disguised the soundwave that boomed through the room. 

*

A door near the kitchen burst off its hinges, pieces of wood flying through the room at frightening speed. Dirk yelped and scrambled backward. His eyes were wide as he stared down the staircase. 

“That’ll probably do it.” Todd remarked nonchalantly. 

Farah rushed around the corner, her gun up. “What the hell?” 

“Another weird thing,” Dirk shrugged. 

“Remind me to roll my eyes at you later?” Farah said quietly. “Stay behind me.” 

*

Orange fire licked across Amanda’s face and hands and hair. Her eyes were wide as she registered the fire like warm pins and needles. The boys pulled away just enough to avoid getting burned. 

“Manda?” Vogel asked, grinning. 

“You can see this?” Amanda lifted her hands to her face. It definitely looked like a pararibulitis attack but the sensory input was – almost pleasant. 

“What the hell?” Gary muttered. 

Amanda’s eyes locked on him and his brother. She smiled humourlessly. Hank frowned and doubled down on his attack; the wind was screaming around the room at ear-splitting speed. The fire on Amanda’s skin didn’t respond at all, maintaining its calm little dance over her. 

“You,” Amanda said dreamily, “you should have died in the fire.” 

Hank wilted. The wind slackened. “How can you know that?” 

Amanda moved a hand slowly in front of her face, watching the fire on her flesh. “You stink of it. You stink of the misery of Blackwing, and you stink of something that _fried_.” Amanda hissed. “My boys started the job all those years ago. It only seems right that I finish it.” Holding both hands in front of her Amanda shouted with the effort of directing the fire. It leapt from her hands to Hank, engulfing him entirely. He screamed. 

Gary was shouting, Hank was screaming, the Rowdy Three were howling their feral encouragement; amongst it all Amanda heard the crackling of fire. She panted, burning away at Hank’s mind the way he’d savagely attacked hers. 

As quickly as they’d appeared, the flames vanished. The wind stopped and the sudden silence was deafening. Amanda sagged for a second, leaning into Cross and staring over at the brothers. 

Hank sat on the bed shaking. His skin was untouched but he was panicking. Hank stared at his hands. 

“What the hell did you do to him?” Gary shouted. 

Amanda couldn’t answer. She was tired, more tired than she could ever remember being in her life. Checking her sense of self Amanda sighed with relief. Everything was where it belonged, including the four anarchist psychic vampires she called family, nestled in the back of her mind. 

“Gary, it – it’s gone. It’s gone. Gary.” Hank pulled at his brother’s sleeve. 

“What the hell are you talking about? It can’t just be gone.” 

Hank gibbered, “it’s gone all gone, I can’t find the wind or the claws, it’s gone, there’s _nothing left_.” His eyes were full of terror. 

“You won’t hurt anyone else,” Amanda said softly, “anyone else, ever again.” 

Gary stared. “You took his power away?” 

“No. I destroyed it.” 

“What a pity.” Gary pulled a gun from the back of his jeans and shot Hank in the head without flinching. 

Amanda gasped. Gary aimed the weapon at her and smiled coldly before being mercifully distracted by Dirk, Todd and Farah as they came running in. The three of them shouted all at once and Farah’s gun was trained on Gary. 

“Put your weapon down, now!” Farah shouted. 

“After you.” Gary said sarcastically. 

Farah took off the safety. “Last chance. Weapon down. Now.” 

Gary pulled the trigger. 

Before the click even registered Farah fired, hitting Gary in the shoulder. He spun and fell with a cry, dropping his gun to grip his bleeding wound. Farah kicked the gun away, ignoring the sick feeling in her gut. She easily cuffed Gary with his arms twisted behind him and pushed him to the floor. Only when the middle-aged man was secured and incapacitated did Farah find the strength to turn and look for which friend had been shot. 

Quickly glancing from face to face, Farah frowned. “Where’d the bullet go?” 

“I think you’ll find the gun misfired,” Dirk offered softly. 

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” Todd shouted, glaring at his apparently former boss. 

Dirk’s face lit up. “It was him. He’s the middle of all this.” 

For his part, Gary merely grunted in pain. 

“Who’s that?” Dirk pointed at Hank’s corpse. 

“His brother,” Martin snarled, “ _he_ was the one controllin’ people. He was in Blackwing.” 

Dirk flinched. It was unclear whether he stepped behind Todd or if Todd put himself in front of Dirk; either way it ended with a defensive Todd ready to fight something. 

“I don’t recognise him.” Dirk admitted. 

Martin tried not to look too threatening, even though Icarus’ terror was enticing. “You mighta known what he felt like in your head. Like greasy poison, pullin’ all your misery to the front. He was controllin’ the folks that lived here and he tried to get us.” 

“Maybe.” Dirk glanced at the dead man briefly before turning to the surviving sibling. “You shot your own _brother?_ ” 

Gary remained silent. 

“Of course you did,” Dirk shrugged, “he was evidence. Evidence of – of your trying to control someone else. Someone important.” Dirk gasped and clutched at Todd’s shoulder. “Bill!” 

“Bill? From work?” 

“Of course! Bill is some sort of ‘head honcho’, right? So Gary here,” Dirk glanced at the wounded man, “wanted to control _Bill!_ ” 

Todd was as confused as ever. “What for?” 

“Clearly some sort of illegal business deal. Honest people don’t need mind-controlling siblings to get ahead.” At that, Dirk risked a look at Amanda. 

“Wait, what about the people that lived across the street? Your client’s sister, or whatever?” Amanda asked. 

Dirk looked smug. “They got in the way. Obviously. They wouldn’t stay _manipulated_ would they? Some people have natural resistance to psychic abilities. I’m betting they were the only ones on the street that wouldn’t blink when you said to, and wanted in on the scam. That’s why there’s that weird tunnel between the houses, so you could keep working together without raising suspicion.” 

“What are you, some kind of detective?” Gary said from between clenched teeth. 

Dirk glowed at the accidental praise. “Some kind, yes. The holistic kind.” He practically preened. Todd rolled his eyes. 

“I’m starving,” Amanda said quietly. She leaned forward, supported by Cross until she could put her arms around Martin’s neck. “Can we get something to eat?” 

“All this just for business?” Farah asked at last. She looked at Gary with disgust. “How are we going to prove it?” 

“Not my problem.” Amanda yawned. She heard police sirens rapidly approaching. “I hope that’s Estevez, otherwise getting out of here is going to be impossible.” 

Seconds later, before anyone had really had a chance to process what was happening, heavily armoured SWAT guys stormed the room. The unconscious Brad was cuffed where he lay on the floor. Dirk and Todd immediately put their hands above their heads, while Farah and her gun were of particular interest. The masked team shouted at her while she carefully placed her weapon on the floor. It rankled Farah to do so but being a victim of friendly fire did not appeal. She kept her arms above her head and winced when she was roughly handcuffed. 

“Hey, leave her alone!” Amanda shouted, moving out of the protective circle of her boys. She lunged for her crowbar and stepped forward. “Let her go!” 

“Amanda, no!” Farah shouted desperately. “It’s protocol! Put down your weapon!” Every SWAT gun was trained on Amanda and Farah was almost blind with panic. 

Almost in unison Amanda and the Rowdy Three snarled. Todd started shouting but his voice got lost in the general shoutiness already happening. Dirk just looked around the room hopelessly. The threads of the universe were flapping loose around him; something had been cut away and now the web sought to mend itself and Dirk’s heart was in his throat. The sound of his own rushing blood filled his ears and his vision went hazy. Dirk felt the universe _squeeze_ and heard a scream and gunfire. 

Gary lay sprawled on the floor, several holes in his chest pouring red across his shirt. 

Dirk exhaled in relief and leaned heavily against Todd. He couldn’t feel anything ‘universey’ and was immensely glad of it. Come to think of it, he did still feel a bit weird, hot and cold all at once, but he swore it wasn’t a universe thing. Definitely more of a body thing. Dirk looked down at his sleeve. “Oh,” he said quietly. 

“Stand the fuck down! Jesus,” Estevez emerged from behind the gun-toting cops. They slowly lowered their weapons. “That includes _you_.” He looked at the Rowdies meaningfully. 

After a tense moment Amanda slowly lowered her crowbar and the others followed suit unhappily. She could hear their low growls and some whispered curses. 

“Holy shit!” Todd shouted. He struggled to hold Dirk as he crumpled in a decidedly downward direction. “Help! Someone help!” 

Farah was resolutely held in place by some SWAT extras but fought them anyway. Amanda gave her crowbar to Martin before rushing to her brother. She helped him lower Dirk to the ground. 

“What happened?” Amanda asked quickly. “What’s wrong?” 

Dirk groaned. “Why is it always the shoulder?” 

“What happened?” Estevez shouted, pushing through the SWAT team. 

“He’s been shot you asshole!” 

Estevez stared at Todd, his heart frozen in his chest. Memories flooded Estevez and held him entirely still for a heartbreaking moment. He saw Zim, bleeding out in the backseat, before blinking the memory away. “Get a ’bus down here!” He knelt beside the squirming Dirk, helping Todd press down on the bleeding hole in Dirk’s shoulder. 

“Is he ok? _Is he ok?_ ” Farah shouted. 

Estevez saw her in cuffs and on her knees. “Uncuff her, now. Now!” 

Farah was released from her restraints and resisted the urge to punch the SWAT member that had her. Knowing he was doing his job and being on the wrong end of that job were two very different things. Farah stood over Dirk, staring, clinically observing the rate of blood loss and the position of the wound, trying to function despite the rising panic. 

“Dirk? Dirk, can you hear me?” Todd asked frantically. “Dirk, come on, don’t fall asleep. Please don’t fall asleep, please don’t fall asleep.” He stroked the side of Dirk’s rapidly paling face. 

“What’s so dark in the fishbowl?” Dirk slurred. 

“Help’s coming, hold on, buddy,” Estevez tried not to sound too pleading, pushing back his memories of the day Zim died. Sirens could be heard in the distance, drawing rapidly closer. 

Dirk giggled tiredly. “I’ve never liked custard pie.” 

“Not again,” Estevez kept pressing down onto Dirk’s shoulder. His hands were slick with blood. “Someone get up there, bring the medics down!” 

A SWAT guy clattered out of the room, returning seconds later with paramedics. The professionals encouraged Estevez and Todd out of the way and began their brisk treatment. 

Amanda pulled Todd back. “Give them room to work, Todd. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.” 

Todd didn’t look away from Dirk and clung to his sister. “How did this happen?” 

“Friendly fire,” Farah said quietly, coming to stand by Todd and taking his hand in hers. “With enough excited guns in a room someone’s bound to get hurt.” 

The paramedics loaded Dirk onto a stretcher. “Is anyone next of kin?” One asked. 

“Me,” Todd moved forward, still holding Farah’s hand, “and her. We’re family.” 

Amanda felt a small stab in the heart to see her brother with his new family before remembering she had her own. 

“You’ll both fit.” The paramedic nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Todd immediately followed the paramedics as they carried Dirk out, but Farah paused. 

“Go, Ms Black. I know where to find you.” Estevez said tiredly. He tried not to look at his bloodstained hands. 

Farah nodded her thanks before looking at Amanda. “I’ll text you.” 

Amanda managed a tight smile before Farah turned and left. 

“Who wants to tell me what the goddamn hell is going on here?” Estevez glared around the room. 

“Everything was fine til these losers showed up,” Amanda looked at the SWAT guys, “we had Gary in cuffs, and _alive_ , but if I’m being totally honest with you Hank was already dead, but no one else managed to get shot.” 

“Hank? Who the hell is Hank?” 

“The guy with a bullet in his head.” Amanda felt a little nauseous and tried not to look at the corpse. “He’s Gary’s brother. He was in Blackwing.” 

Estevez’s eyebrows shot up. “Blackwing? Bullshit secret society government experiment Blackwing?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So he could?” Estevez made a series of expressions and gestures in what he hoped was a decent effort at charades-ing Weird Bullshit. 

“Uh, yeah. Something happened to Hank when we got here that took away his, y’know, and Gary.” Amanda gulped. “Gary shot him.” She hadn’t pulled the trigger but felt responsible for Hank’s death nonetheless. 

Behind her, Martin growled. “He was bad news. Him and his brother were hurtin’ people and they weren’t gonna stop. They brainwashed the couple that lived here.” 

“The woman’s been taken into custody via the hospital. What are they gonna be like now that,” Estevez glanced at Hank, “the ‘brainwashing’ is over?” 

“I don’t know.” Amanda yawned. _I wonder what the boys know about it?_

“No clue.” Martin said. He stood beside Amanda, ready to catch her; she looked dead on her feet. “Can we go?” 

Estevez stared at him for a second. “I still need to interview you. All of you.” He took in Martin’s snarling face and Amanda’s clear exhaustion. “I’ll have you escorted over to the house and you can wait for me there. I won’t be long. Don’t go back through the tunnel.” 

Amanda shuddered. “You couldn’t pay me to go back through there. C’mon boys.” She got her crowbar back from Martin and wearily led the way through the room, avoiding the corpses, and through the second door guarded by SWAT guys. 

As the Rowdy Three approached the front of the house, where the door had been and now a banged up van rested, Amanda squared her shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for twenty-four hours, but they had to cross the undoubtedly busy street first. Amanda gripped the crowbar tightly and smiled at the still shirtless Martin. 

Gripps, Cross and Vogel charged out of the wreckage, shouting and swinging weapons, heading straight for the house Martin and Amanda were pretending to live in. They went through the open front door, guarded by yet more SWAT guys, with Amanda and Martin strolling at an almost leisurely pace behind them. They steadfastly ignored the growing crowds. 

“Honey, we’re home!” Martin shouted as he stalked through the door. The boys laughed hugely and bounced around the place, throwing furniture and causing a fuss. Amanda laughed along with them, their happiness clear in her mind and definitely contagious. Being in their space again was healing in a way Amanda hadn’t thought possible. 

“Let’s pack,” Amanda yawned again. “And get you dressed.” 

Martin looked down at his exposed skin before fixing Amanda with a sceptical expression. “You complainin’ about the view?” 

“Not one bit.” Amanda leaned against the banister and crooked her finger at him. Obediently Martin approached her and leaned in close to kiss her smiling cheek. The sudden quiet from the boys made Martin pause. He looked over his shoulder to see Vogel, Cross and Gripps staring at them from the living room. 

“I got something on my face or what?” Amanda asked with a grin. 

“Yeah. Him!” Gripps pointed to Martin and guffawed. 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Whatever. C’mon.” She grabbed Martin by the hand and dragged him up the stairs behind her. Vogel, Cross and Gripps made cooing and kissing noises as they left and Amanda couldn’t help laughing. 

Once they were alone Martin looked at Amanda over the top of his glasses. She could feel him asking if she was ok, that bubble of him in her mind taking on a concerned tone. Staring at him, Amanda nodded. 

“I’m fine.” Feeling totally out of her depth Amanda pushed the new sensations back. “Quick, grab those towels before we’re escorted out of here.” She rushed to stuff one in their personal duffel bag. She could feel the Martin in her head asking, and maybe laughing a little. His face remained almost totally impassive with just a hint of a smile. “I am not fucking around.” Amanda shoved as many toiletries into the bag as she could. 

Martin laughed outright. “I know.” 

“What is happening?” Amanda asked without looking at him. “Now that imminent death is off the table, I gotta know. Am I like, going crazy, or something? When it all fell apart and I,” Amanda paused, “I had to get everything back under control, I swear I pulled parts of all of you back into me. It sounds insane but I know what I did! I think. Start talking.” 

Approaching Amanda slowly, Martin had a sly smile on his face. “I didn’t know if it would happen with someone who wasn’t exactly like me and the boys. We’ve been on the edge of this for weeks. Months.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Since the first time you got in the van.” 

“On the edge of what?” 

Raising a single eyebrow, Martin let his barriers down. The reunion with his boys and the new connection with Amanda had reduced his defences substantially and it wasn’t hard to let Amanda in. Martin smiled as she stretched through his senses like a cat basking in the sun. “This. You’re in my head. I’m in yours. The boys are too; I can feel ‘em. This is how it is for us. How it’s always been from the minute we met each other. You feel better now they’re around?” 

Amanda nodded, her eyes widening as she felt herself seeping into Martin’s head. “Way better.” 

“We’re part of a whole. We ain’t four – or five – people, we’re bits that go together an’ make one. You’re in this now. You’re part of us.” 

“Woah, what? No way. That’s.” Amanda quit packing and sat on the couch. “That’s not possible. You said it yourself, I’m not like you. This isn’t possible.” 

Martin shrugged, sitting by her. “You tryin’ to tell me you can’t feel it? You can’t feel Vogel gettin’ excited over the Xbox? Cross smashing plates in the kitchen?” 

Closing her eyes Amanda shook her head. “Not possible.” 

“You tryin’ to tell me you can’t feel _me_ in there? Coz I can hear you, loud and clear. Confused as hell but a little happy.” 

“Of course I’m happy,” Amanda looked at him and smiled, “but this is a _lot_ to take in. I’m just a girl, just a normal girl.” 

“Who was it that literally proved they were _somethin’_ very recently?” 

“Ok, me, but-” 

“Normal people don’t get in a van full of slightly psychic strangers. Normal people don’t stick around when the CIA comes a-callin’. Normal people don’t love people like us.” 

“You’re all totally lovable.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” Amanda smiled. “What a night.” Thinking over the evening, the moment Hank was shot spontaneously appeared in Amanda’s mind and she flinched. There’d been more blood and brain matter than TV shows had led her to believe. The sharp bark of the shot echoed in her ears. 

Martin smelled her distress like a bitter metallic tang in the air. As Amanda reached for him Martin moved closer, pulling her into his lap to hold her tight. 

Burying into him Amanda tried to pick apart her tumbling thoughts. The feel of Martin’s skin warmed her and she was glad that the burning desire seemed to have dimmed a little. His presence was definitely soothing and his scent helped calm her. “I killed Hank, didn’t I?” 

“He was always on borrowed time. The minute Gary didn’t need him he was done for.” 

“But he died because of me. Because of – of whatever I did to him.” 

“Hey now, you did what had to be done.” Martin stroked her hair as he spoke. “The universe makes mistakes. Big ones. Hank was a mistake and you fixed it. You ain’t responsible for what folks choose to do after the fact.” 

“How do you know he was a mistake?” 

Martin growled. “I just do. So do you, in there.” He tapped her temple lightly. “That’s how you knew how to fix it.” 

“Maybe.” Amanda said stubbornly. “Someone still died because of something I did. If I’d never burned his power away Gary never would’ve shot him.” 

“And maybe if I’d never run away from home Blackwing never would’ve found me. These maybes’ll kill you faster’n any gun. Ain’t no maybes no more baby girl. Just what is and what ain’t.” 

“But what if-” 

“What if’s are in the same black hole as maybes. I can tell you somethin’ for sure: if you’d let Hank be, he woulda hurt a lot more people before someone else put him down. You were gonna let him live and that’s a hell of a lot more than he would ever have done for anyone else, us included.” 

Amanda glanced up just as Gripps, Cross and Vogel came into the wardrobe. She smiled. 

“Hank woulda killed us all.” Gripps said. His tone brooked exactly no opposition. 

“Woulda blown us out like candles!” Vogel nodded, miming snuffing candles. 

Cross sat on the floor and leaned against the couch, twisting his head back to look at Amanda. “You saved our asses.” 

“And the folks that lived there with Hank in their heads.” Martin pointed out. “No matter what way you look at it, you made the right choice.” 

Vogel and Gripps nodded their agreement as they came to sit with Amanda. Gripps sat beside her on the couch while Vogel sat on the floor and drummed a persistent beat against Amanda’s knee. 

Relaxing in the presence of the Rowdy Three, Amanda felt their certainty and total confidence in her. Realistically if there was a choice between hurting someone and saving her family it wasn’t even a choice. Knowing she’d caused the death of another human was something Amanda could come to terms with – especially if that death meant survival for the Rowdy Three. Amanda sighed. The exhaustion returned to overwhelm her and her defences were incredibly low; she couldn’t be bothered trying to keep the boys out of her head and they all mingled together, sharing a heartbeat and a moment of perfect quiet. 

Gripps inhaled sharply. “What’s that smell?” 

Amanda couldn’t help the bolt of alarm that shot through her. She couldn’t sense anything _bad_ coming their way but her mind roved through the boys’ to try and spot the danger. 

“Woah woah woah,” Martin said in a low voice, “there ain’t no trouble.” 

Cross shifted to stare at Amanda in wonder. “You’re like an eagle! You can just fly through my head. Ka-kaw!” 

“What is it about birds?” Amanda muttered. “I don’t even know I do it.” 

“Neither do we,” Gripps smiled. “Seriously, what is that smell? It’s delicious.” 

Amanda grinned and relaxed again. She quit clawing through the air around her looking for trouble. “Bath stuff. Don’t worry, I totally got some for you.” 

Gripps smiled and dropped a quick kiss to Amanda’s cheek. 

“Ms Brotzman?” 

Amanda sighed deeply. “Hey Estevez, we’re in here.” 

A moment later Estevez appeared in the wardrobe doorway and looked at the pile of Rowdies. “Are you hurt?” 

Fixing the cop with a deadpan glare, Amanda didn’t bother to respond. Her expression was mirrored on the four men around her. 

“Fine.” Estevez got a notebook out of his jacket pocket. He’d gotten most of the blood off his hands but there was no avoiding the way it caked under his nails. 

With a resolute sigh Estevez tried to get as much detail about the events of the evening from the strangely calm group in front of him; the quiet was more unnerving than their destructive tendencies. Even Vogel, the one that Estevez _knew_ would tear off a person’s ears if he thought it would be funny, was almost entirely still. Vogel’s only movement was his fingerless-gloved hands that twitched across Amanda’s knees. 

“How did Hank get shot?” 

Amanda didn’t flinch when she relived Hank’s death but the memory soured her mind all the same. Around her the boys reacted; Martin pulled her closer, Vogel tapped her knees more insistently, Cross rested a calm hand against her leg and Gripps hummed snatches of music with his head close to Amanda’s. 

“Something happened to him,” Amanda said slowly, “and he told Gary that his abilities were gone.” 

Estevez stared, clearly disbelieving. “Something? Something mysteriously happened to him?” 

Amanda shrugged. “Yeah it was super weird. Like, we were just standing there and then all of a sudden the wind died down and Hank said he didn’t have any powers anymore.” 

“You really expect me to believe that?” 

“Right, sorry, what _actually_ happened was that I psychically exploded and when I recovered I caught on _fire_ and burned Hank’s powers away.” 

“Ms Brotzman, this is serious.” 

“I saw someone’s brains explode out the side of their head.” Amanda felt sick. “I know it’s serious.” 

Martin glared furiously at Estevez. The cop tried to ignore it. 

“Fine.” Estevez rolled his eyes. “So, _something_ happens to Hank, Gary shoots him, then the gang shows up and y’all start cooking s’mores.” 

“S’mores!” Vogel shouted, his eyes bright. “If we set the house on fire we can make _giant s’mores!_ ” 

Amanda grinned and ruffled his hair. “Genius! Let’s get cooking.” 

“Not yet.” Martin said in a low voice, smiling as he exercised a little psychic persuasion to keep the boys and Amanda steady. “This nice police officer ain’t quite done with us.” 

“If you could quit looking at me like I’m food, that’d be real helpful.” Estevez said pointedly. “Gently and Brotzman show up with Ms Black and?” 

Amanda thought back. “Gary fired and missed, Farah fired and _didn’t_ miss, then she got him in cuffs on the ground, then the goon squad showed up. They cuffed Farah, and Gary tried to get up while they were busy. That’s when someone opened fire.” 

“Why is it always Dirk?” 

“He’s probably asking the same question.” Amanda pointed out. “Is he ok?” 

Estevez cleared his throat. “He’s in surgery.” He paused and looked away, deliberately avoiding glancing at his own hands. “Is there anything else you can think of about tonight that you haven’t told me?” 

Amanda opened her eyes just a little too wide in feigned innocence. “Nothing in particular.” 

“Anything else about Gary? Or maybe his wife? Their neighbours? Anything to tie the O’Reillys to Hank?” 

“Dirk would know. He thought the O’Reillys might have been able to resist the brainwashing and wanted to work with Hank and Gary.” 

Estevez gritted his teeth. “But no evidence to support this?” 

“Probably not. He’s not real big on evidence.” 

“Great. That’s just. Perfect.” Estevez was growing visibly irritated. 

Around Amanda, she felt the boys’ appetite growing. “You want them to quit lookin’ at you like food? Quit tasting so good.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“They eat energy,” Amanda explained, “and right now your energy is poppin’.” 

Estevez stared at Amanda and tried to get a hold of himself. “If you think of anything else, call me. You got my number.” 

“Does that mean we can keep the phones?” 

Looking at Amanda, remembering everything he’d asked of her, Estevez sighed. Watching someone get shot – watching someone _die_ – left a mark on a person. Amanda had seen some shit that was totally his fault. That, along with Dirk getting shot (again) inspired a hell of a lot of guilt in Estevez. “Tell you what, Ms Brotzman. I’ve gotta go and talk to the victim’s wife, and check the crime scene, supervise the canvas,” he rubbed his eyes, “it’s gonna be a busy night.” 

Amanda frowned. “Ok?” 

“It’ll be a while before we have time to clean up this scene and close up the op.” 

Understanding dawned. Amanda nodded. “A while, huh?” 

“A while. Make sure you keep my number.” Estevez put his notebook away and turned. “I’m sorry for what you saw tonight.” 

“Thank you. But it’s not your fault.” 

Estevez swallowed hard and left. 

“We gotta wait here all night?” Cross rolled his eyes. 

Vogel was devastated. “No s’mores?” 

“There’s gonna be s’mores, buddy,” Martin placed a calming hand on Vogel’s head. “All the s’mores you can eat. You ready?” He looked down at Amanda as she slowly sat up properly. 

“Let’s get outta here before he changes his mind.” Amanda nodded eagerly. She felt stiff and heavy, almost like a post-pararibulitis episode feeling. The hunger clawing at her guts was an added, unwelcome distraction. 

“Boys, get some food for the trip.” Martin grinned as the others fled the room. He rounded up the last of their things and finally put on a shirt, one of his own, and added his vest on top with a sly grin. Amanda felt his spirit ease and warmth rose in her. 

Trying to distract herself, Amanda gathered up some of the things Estevez gave them for their cover. Martin had left his wallet on the nightstand with the police-issue car keys. It was such a normal thing to do and it caught her off guard. 

“You ok?” Martin asked from the broken doorway. “We gotta go.” 

“Yeah, fine,” Amanda nodded, “just getting some supplies.” 

Martin glanced at the wallet and purse in her hands and raised an eyebrow. 

“Sometimes we need cash.” Amanda shrugged. 

With a feral grin and their bag over his shoulder, Martin led the way out of the suburban nightmare. Ignoring the multitudes of cops and onlookers the Rowdy Three got into their van, the engine roaring to life amid whooping and cheers. With total disregard for the police presence blocking off the street Martin revved the van and drove through the pathetic timber blockades before speeding off into the night. 

Amanda sat in the front beside Martin with her window all the way down. Her hair flew around her face and she grinned as the noise of the van and the chatter of the boys filled her ears and heart with the sounds of home. Sliding closer to Martin, Amanda planted a teasing kiss on his cheek and surreptitiously stole the cigarette from his lips. She grinned at his pout and settled in for the drive, absolutely relishing the warmth and closeness of her family.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sunday_

As he lazily returned to consciousness, Dirk became increasingly and annoyingly aware of a persistent ache in his shoulder. He grumbled his discontent at the situation. The grumbling tried to form words right around the point Dirk realised the room was very bright and his eyes were very sensitive. 

“Dirk!” 

The sound of his name in a familiar, harried tone jolted Dirk to mildly panicked wakefulness. “Hngh? Fftht?” 

“Holy shit, Dirk! You’re awake!” 

“Tssd? Terrgh?” Dirk coughed. How was it possible for his mouth to be so dry? “ _Todd?_ ” He managed to croak at last. Unused eyes finally brought the room, and a beautifully familiar, albeit very stressed face, into focus. Dirk tried to grin but his weary opioid-riddled body would only supply a weak gaping smile. _Damn traitor body._

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Todd sagged, burying his face in his hands, “you’re awake. You’re awake.” 

“I think so?” Dirk tried to lick his lips but there was no moisture to be found. His tongue was so much sandpaper rolling across his own mouth. “Is there water? Tea? Anything liquid? Honestly I’d be tempted by American beer at this point.” 

Todd leapt to his feet. Dirk was dimly aware that Todd appeared to be in the same clothes from the ludicrously eventful neighbourhood dinner. Painkillers dampened Dirk’s mind considerably and he couldn’t quite make the connections necessary to remember what had happened. In a pleasant haze Dirk watched Todd bustle with a pitcher and cup. 

“Why’s it so _bright_ in here?” Dirk rasped. Todd finally handed over a cup with slightly trembling hands. The ache in his right shoulder told Dirk that the right arm was out of commission, so he clumsily drank with his left hand instead. The water was one of the best things he’d ever tasted in his life, right up there with his first meal out of Blackwing and the finest appletini he’d ever had when lying low in Prague. 

“How do you lie low while drinking an appletini in _Prague?_ ” Todd laughed. 

“How could you possibly know about that?” Dirk gasped. “Did you get a hunch?” 

Todd smiled fondly. “No, Dirk. You said all of that out loud. They’ve got you on some heavy-duty drugs. Definitely no driving for you for a while.” 

“Oh.” 

“Are you? Are you ok?” 

Dirk paused to consider the question. “I hurt? I think?” He flexed his right hand. Beneath the drugged fog there was a spike in pain. “Yes, definitely. Definitely hurt. Ouch.” He waited for the fog to resettle. 

“You got shot.” 

“What? Why would anyone shoot me?” 

The look of betrayal on Dirk’s face made Todd laugh again. “It was an accident. When the SWAT guys shot at Gary someone aimed wide and got you instead.” 

“No such thing as accidents. Everything is connected.” 

“Nothing is also connected.” 

Dirk beamed. “Very good, Todd! You’ll be getting hunches in no time.” 

“I don’t want your hunches.” Todd rubbed his eyes. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“Oh, I’m not enough now, is that it?” 

Dirk was crushed. “Of course you’re enough, you’re more than enough! I’ve never had _anyone_ sitting at my sickbed before. I’m so glad you’re here.” With a gesture that was a bit too big, thanks in no small part to the drugs in his body, Dirk reached for Todd’s hand. His long fingers curled around Todd’s and held on tight. “So glad you’re here.” 

“I’ll always be here, Dirk.” Todd squeezed Dirk’s hand. The moment stretched and Todd felt his ears go warm. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of Dirk. “They’re going to discharge you in a day or two so you’ll be home before you know it.” 

“Home.” Dirk sighed. “But which home?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Our flat, Todd, with all my plants and the perfect afternoon sun,” Dirk was genuinely concerned. 

“That tiny apartment? What’s wrong with my place?” 

“We have a lease! A legally binding document!” Dirk stammered. “And my succulents are doing so well there!” 

Todd rolled his eyes but still managed a smile. “It’s not my apartment, Dirk. I just want to go home.” 

“But Todd, it’s _our_ home.” The look in Dirk’s big, blue and definitely shiny eyes was like a knife to Todd’s heart. 

“Friends don’t live in a one bedroom apartment.” 

“Todd, I,” Dirk stared for a moment, “I uh. Um.” 

“Dirk? What’s wrong?” 

“I want to live in our home. Together.” 

Todd’s brows furrowed dangerously. “You want to live together?” 

“More than anything.” Dirk whispered. 

“I think you’re supposed to at least ask me on a date first.” 

Dirk snatched his good hand back from Todd and pouted defensively. “No need to mock me, Todd, a simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.” 

“Wait, I didn’t say no.” Todd corrected. He moved closer to Dirk. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t say no.” 

Dirk tried to find the trick, the puzzle, but couldn’t. The universe was being oddly silent, probably as a result of the drugs. “I beg your pardon?” 

Tentatively Todd reached out and brushed Dirk’s hair back from his face. His hand traced down Dirk’s cheek. “You really like that apartment?” 

“I like the way you look when you’re napping on our couch.” Dirk closed his eyes with a smile and tilted his head into Todd’s warm hand. No one had ever touched him so tenderly before. 

“On one condition.” 

Practically nuzzling into Todd’s hand, Dirk nodded. “Anything.” 

“No more plants.” 

Dirk gasped. His eyes snapped open to glare at Todd. “How can you say that? They’re beautiful.” He attempted to bat Todd’s hand away only to have Todd catch his fingers easily. 

Todd leaned closer still, his mouth wide and laughing, his nose almost brushing Dirk’s. “I’m joking. Mostly.” 

“What are you doing?” Dirk asked quietly. Todd still held his hand tightly. 

Fear flashed through Todd’s eyes and he pulled away. “I thought. If you wanted to live together? Shit.” 

“No wait!” Dirk immediately attempted to sit up, which immediately made his shoulder burn in no uncertain terms, which then made him curse and collapse into the bedding with a grimace. 

“Dirk don’t move!” Todd fussed, overcome with worry all over again. “You’re not supposed to move.” 

“You’re not supposed to leave!” 

“What?” 

Dirk reached for Todd but his limited scope meant he could only grab a fistful of shirt. “I do! I want the – the living together and the whole _touching_ thing and the, the what nearly might have happened just now if I hadn’t said anything, thing?” 

“You’re sure?” Todd was reasonably sure he’d die any minute now of emotional overload. 

“Very. Very much so, yes. Definitely. Sure.” Dirk pulled on Todd’s shirt. He’d hoped to manage a flirty smile but his nerves would only permit a wide-eyed stare with slightly parted lips. 

“Oh thank god.” Todd moved closer until their noses touched once again. He hovered there for a brief moment before closing the final distance and pressing his lips to Dirk’s. 

Dirk gasped, a tiny sweet little sound, and quickly brought his good hand up to Todd’s shoulder. His previous forays into kissing had been pleasant enough but Todd, beautiful Todd, was everything he’d ever hoped. The light scrape of stubble against his face made Dirk smile and he very quickly resolved to get as much kissing done as humanly possible. 

Farah’s cat-quiet grace saved everyone an absolute boatload of embarrassment. She’d quietly entered the room, seen Dirk and Todd most enthusiastically eating one another’s faces, and had made a hasty retreat. Instead Farah stood guard at the closed door and drank her shitty hospital coffee, both hopeful that the sexual tension in the office might now be dialled down a notch and horrified that there would probably be many more awkward-room-entering-events in the foreseeable future. 

“Hey!” 

Farah turned and immediately reached for a gun. Seeing Amanda come running down the hall instead, Farah relaxed. 

“Amanda! Oof!” Farah did well not to spill her coffee when Amanda barrelled into her. Farah smiled; she missed Amanda’s hugs. Amanda hugged like she hadn’t seen you for a decade and couldn’t remember what you felt like. 

“Is he in there? Is he ok?” 

“Yeah, he’s fine, don’t go in there.” Farah said quickly. “He and Todd need a minute.” 

“Is Todd being a jerk? Dirk’s just been shot! I’ll kick his ass!” 

“Amanda, no, it’s not like that,” Farah said awkwardly. “It’s more like. Uh, when a weird guy and a holistic detective guy really like each other and finally remember what you’re supposed to do when you like someone.” 

Amanda was only slightly surprised. “Please do not paint me a picture.” 

“Wasn’t about to.” 

“So Dirk’s ok?” 

Farah nodded, sipping on her coffee once again. “Clean shot, no organ damage. With some rest he’ll be fine.” 

“Thank god.” Amanda sat in the crappy plastic chairs by the door. Farah scanned the hallway, found it empty of likely threats, and sat beside Amanda. 

“Want some coffee?” Farah offered her cup. 

“You don’t even want it, why the hell would I?” 

“How did you-?” 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “No one likes hospital coffee.” No need to mention Farah’s dislike for the beverage was practically palpable in the air. 

“Right.” Farah looked at her cup. She tried to finish the garbage water. “Where to next for you?” 

“Dunno.” 

“Doesn’t that scare you?” 

Amanda took a moment to process the fear she could feel from Farah. She’d always been perceptive but since properly becoming a Rowdy Amanda was quickly learning that there was an extra layer she could read from people. “No. I love it. The freedom, it’s.” Amanda grinned and her eyes glowed. “It’s better than anything I could ever have hoped for.” 

Farah smiled tightly and nodded. “Right.” 

“When I got sick, I lost everything: friends, my job, any prospect of having a life of my own. I felt so trapped in my body that could – and does – betray me at any second of the day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as sick now as I was then, but I have a family who love me anyway and love me for who I am. Not out of guilt.” Amanda glared through the closed door. “They don’t care that I have bad days. They don’t care that I’m still afraid of things and that I don’t know if that’ll ever stop.” 

“You? Afraid? You’re the bravest person I know.” 

“Nah.” Amanda laughed a little. “I’m still afraid of getting attacks. I’m afraid of someone trying to hurt my boys or my friends.” 

“Me too.” Farah smiled sadly. “When I thought the SWAT guys would hurt you,” she looked away. “You’re not invincible.” 

Amanda grinned. “We don’t know that.” 

“Let’s not test it ok?” 

“Fine.” Amanda put her arm around Farah’s shoulders in a quick hug. She frowned a little, feeling a pull from the boys. They were getting restless. “I gotta go. Tell those losers I said hi?” 

“But you only just got here.” 

“We never stay anywhere for long. I’ll send flowers, and I’ll call.” Amanda gave Farah a proper hug. “I’ll see you later.” With one last grin Amanda left, striding down the hall. 

Farah watched her go and sighed. 

*

‘Lurking inconspicuously’ was not a strength of Bart’s. With her matted orange hair and tendency to wear blood-splattered clothes belonging to previous victims, she had less than no ability to blend in. It made no logical sense that her perpetually dishevelled appearance, dirt and blood and all, raised zero eyebrows wherever she went, and yet… Bart remained entirely unobserved on the crowded street. 

Unobserved, except by Ken. He’d picked up a satchel from the last body and loaded it up with snacks and water from the convenience store aka the last crime scene. Without a word Ken gave a bottle of water to Bart. She removed her nails from her mouth long enough to drink half the bottle and gave it back. 

“Hey Ken?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You got any of those, ya know, the little round things with peanut butter?” 

Ken tried not to grin. He’d wiped the convenience store clean of its peanut butter cup stash, and got a jar of peanut butter just in case. He pulled out a packet and handed it over. 

Bart had never learned to conceal her emotions and so her delight was clear to see. “How do you always find these things?” 

“I’m good at peanut butter.” 

“You’re good at lotsa things,” Bart reminded him. She looked around the crowded street curiously. 

“Are we nearby?” 

“We gotta go this way.” Bart led them toward a farmer’s market in the park on the block ahead. 

Ken nodded and followed. It was a beautiful day out, clear skies and soft breezes abounded, and as they wandered the market he was half-inclined to buy some fresh produce. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d eaten a vegetable. 

Pausing by a stand of apples Ken saw Bart’s expression change. Fibre-rich fruit would have to wait; when Bart looked excited but _still_ it meant someone’s death was imminent. Ken tightened the satchel strap across his chest for the likely running-away portion of the morning. 

Bart began to follow a couple of middle-aged women walking a small orange fluff ball of a dog. Ken caught up and heard snippets of their whispered conversation as Bart waited for her moment. 

“Are you sure you should be here? It doesn’t look good, Brooke, your husband just _died_ in incredibly suspicious circumstances and you’re at the market.” The one with the dog lead hissed. 

“You worry too much.” Was the curt reply. 

“You don’t worry enough!” Dog-walker refuted. “They’re both dead, now we have no way to control-” 

“Stop it.” The other woman cut off the dog-walker. “We had contingencies in place for a reason and they will work. All I have to do is go to the bank on Monday and everything will be fine.” 

Ken tried not to shrug. It wasn’t going to be fine. Bart collected a hand-crafted cooking knife from a stall display and followed the pair behind a tent. 

There wasn’t even a scream. 

A minute or so later Bart returned with new blood splatters on her clothes and a new dog in her hands. “Rapunzel can have a sister!” She said with a grin. 

Ken looked closer at the dog. “A brother.” He corrected gently and checked the dog’s tag. “Pumpkin. Welcome to the family. Let’s get outta here before someone freaks out.” 

“Hey Ken?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can we get some apples?” 

Hours later, as the sun went down, Ken and Bart ate crisp apples by the water with Rapunzel and Pumpkin dozing at their feet. 

*

_Monday, probably. Days of the week aren’t a real priority for Rowdies._

Sunrise streaked the clear sky above Amanda. She squinted at it, not entirely ready to be awake but well aware that the chances of more sleep were incredibly slim. With a sleepy hmph she rolled into Martin’s chest to bury her face in his clothes. Maybe another half an hour would be possible if… 

Martin’s arm tightening around Amanda very quickly put sleep off the table entirely. Feeling him wake up Amanda smiled and tentatively poked around in his head a little; it was easiest when they were both sleepy, before Amanda remembered how weird it was and Martin put the walls up out of habit. The only other time they moved freely in their weird telepathy was when clothes were totally absent, but by that point more interesting things were going on than worrying about what’s inside someone’s head. 

Amanda felt the amusement from Martin and grumbled. “What?” 

“I ain’t had anyone diggin’ around in my head for a while.” Martin said sleepily. “Not since Vogel.” 

“Sorry!” Amanda attempted to pull herself back in. She was getting better at it, but couldn’t always keep everything in. It was practically impossible once any sort of desire made itself known, which was why they were on a sleeping bag some distance away from the others. 

“No, don’t do that,” Martin almost whined, “I like it. We can’t control it all the time anyway. Mostly we don’t bother too much.” 

“How do you do this? It feels like I’m intruding but also like I’m standing in front of a class without any clothes on.” 

The mention of her nudity had Martin growling low in his throat. 

Amanda grinned. “Is everything just like, everywhere, all the time?” 

“What are you tryin’ to say, baby girl?” 

“Am I always like _this?_ ” Amanda waved her fingers around her head. 

Martin huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. Kinda. We all are.” 

“How can you stand it?” Amanda laughed and nuzzled his throat. “It’s like bottomless technicolour vomit but full of secrets.” 

“We don’t know all your secrets,” Martin pointed out, “it ain’t exactly a mind-readin’ thing.” 

“But I can practically hear you.” 

“Yeah, _now_. Before? Nope. Before, it was things like an attack, or we could tell when you were really angry or really happy. Extremes are easy.” 

“And now?” 

“Now.” Martin took a deep breath, burying his nose in her hair. “You belong here. When you belong it gets a bit closer.” 

“A bit?” Amanda laughed again. “This is _almost_ the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Only almost?” 

“To be fair, there’s a hell of a lot to choose from.” 

Martin moved away just enough to lean in for a kiss and felt Amanda’s desire slowly unfurl around him. His own energy took on a deliciously hungry tone as the kiss deepened. 

After a moment Amanda pulled away. “How do I keep this in?” 

Nipping at her ear, Martin asked, “why would you want to?” 

“The guys don’t need to know about all of this.” 

“They got enough manners to ignore it. Or make fun of us for it.” Martin deliberately tickled Amanda’s neck with his beard and teeth. “They’ll survive. Me, on the other hand...” 

“Oh please. No one ever died,” Amanda gasped at a particularly well-placed bite on her neck, “no one ever died of,” she bit down on her lip as Martin squeezed her ass. “Wait, I had a point there.” 

“Sure ya did,” Martin mumbled, bringing his mouth back to hers, “we’ll get to that in a minute.” 

They didn’t. Amanda didn’t mind.


End file.
